A Year For France 

War Letters of 
Houston Woodward 







PRESENTED 1!Y 




HOUSTON WOODWARD 



A Year for France 

War Letters of 
Houston Woodward 




The Yale Publishing Association, Inc. 

New Haven, Conn. 

1919 



D570 
.9 
•W55 






PREFACE 

Henry Howard Houston Woodward was born 
at Chestnut Hill, Philadelphia, February 27th, 
1896. Oldest son of Gertrude Houston and 
George Woodward. 

Prepared for college at Chestnut Hill Academy 
and Taft School. Spent one year and a half at 
Yale, resigned after the mid-year examinations, 
February, 191 7, entered the American Ambu- 
lance Field Service, sailed for France February 
19th, 1917, and later became an aviator in the 
French army. 

The only official report on Houston's disap- 
pearance was that of "missing in action," April I, 

1918, and the family have no further information. 
The "Henry" or "Hennie" mentioned in these 

letters was Henry Howard Houston, II, both 
boys being named for their grandfather, Henry 
Howard Houston. 

By a strange fatality all of Mr. Houston's 
descendants who were named for him died in 
Europe between 20 and 23 years of age. His 
son, Henry Howard Houston, Jr., died in Rome in 
1879 just before his 21st birthday; Houston 
Woodward fell in action near Montdidier when 
22 years of age, and Henry Howard Houston, II, 
the last of the name, was killed by a fragment of a 
shell near Fismes, August 18th, 191 8, age 23 years. 

Since the above was in type a cable was received, February 22, 

1919, from Mr. Edwards of the Y. M. C. A., that he had found 
Houston's grave near Montdidier. 



CONTENTS 

Letters from Friends of Houston ... i 

School and College Letters 15 

War Letters 33 

Report of Commandant of Spad 94 . . .183 



LETTERS FROM FRIENDS OF HOUSTON 

AMERICAN EXPEDITIONARY FORCES 
YOUNG MEN'S CHRISTIAN ASSOCIATION 

Headquarters: 12 rue d'Aguesseau, Paris 

June 5, iqi8 
Dr. George Woodward, 

Krisheim, 

Philadelphia, Pa., U. S. A. 
My dear Dr. Woodward: — 

I have just had a long chat with a young man 
named Marinovitch, who was a member of the 
escadrille with Houston. It seems that the 
colonel in charge of the French Mission had 
written to the commander of the escadrille to 
send Houston's bag and other personal effects in 
to me, and Marinovitch brought in a suitcase in 
accordance with this instruction. He also told 
me that a trunk had been sent to me and would 
doubtless be received at the usual rate of delivery 
in France, which is not very speedy. 

I send you herewith a list of the contents of the 
dress suitcase. I have this case now in my room 
at the Y. M. C. A. Secretaries' Club, and it is my 
idea to hold it here until we know definitely about 



Houston's fate. If, however, you would prefer 
that I send the bag home at once, I will do so by 
one of our returning secretaries. 

Marinovitch gave me a long and intimate ac- 
count of Houston's life over here. He told me 
that he had met him first in December when 
Houston entered the escadrille; that he was a 
most daring aviator, thoroughly skillful in his 
mastery of the plane and absolutely courageous 
to the point almost of recklessness. For in- 
stance he said that Houston would frequently 
go out on solitary trips which of course means 
that he was without help in the event of attack. 
His desire to get some Boche planes was very 
great. It was generally felt in the escadrille 
that he had secured a plane sometime in February 
or March, but although obviously disabled, it 
came down within the enemies' lines and Houston 
did not get the proper credit for his skillful work. 

Marinovitch also told me that last week Hous- 
ton had been officially cited for his courage and 
had been awarded the Croix de Guerre. I have 
had this information confirmed from military 
authorities and I extend to you and Mrs. Wood- 
ward my sincerest congratulations. It does not 
often happen that a citation for courage is au- 
thorized after the disappearance of the man, and 

2 



I think that there are only two or three cases of 
the kind on record. I will procure for you an 
official copy of the citation and also the Croix de 
Guerre with the palm as I understand that in the 
event of the disappearance of the aviator the 
family are entitled to claim the same. 

I have heard of a case recently in which an 
aviator was taken prisoner and no word reached 
our side of the line for three months. I have also 
heard of another case in which the word did 
reach our side within two weeks. Marinovitch 
tells me that recently a German aviator was 
taken prisoner and upon searching a list was dis- 
covered of allied aviators who had been killed by 
the Germans, and Houston's name did not ap- 
pear on the list. 

I send you the details of this evidence because 
I know that you will want to know everything 
that I do. 

Marinovitch's mother is now living in Paris. 
She is a Russian. His father was a Servian 
prince. Although he is but nineteen years of age, 
I was very much pleased with his courage, and 
personality and general attitude toward life. I 
gave him fifty francs worth of cigarettes and 
chocolate to take back to the escadrille with the 
compliments of yourself and Mrs. Woodward, as 

3 



he told me they had received very few supplies 
since they were in the battle which has been 
pending for the last two months. I also took 
him to dinner with me at the Cercle Literaire et 
Artistique, and I am glad to have had him for my 
guest. 

With sincere regards, 

Yours faithfully, 
(Signed) Franklin S. Edmonds 

12 rue $ Agues seau, 
Paris, August 31st, 1018 
Dr. George Woodward, 

yog North American Building, 
Philadelphia, Pa., U. S. A. 

My dear Dr. Woodward: — 

Marinovitch has just been in to see me and I 
have delivered to him Houston's field glasses. I 
also gave him for himself and his mother one of 
the boxes of candy which I had collected from 
Morgan-Harjes Co. Marinovitch has now a 
record of having brought down sixteen German 
planes; he has received the Cross of the Legion of 
Honor; the French Medaille Militaire; the Croix 
de Guerre with nine palms for citations, and has 
just been given a month's leave of absence in 

4 



England. I told him to stop here on his return 
and I would give him a fifty franc package of 
cigarettes for members of Escadrille No. 94, and 
I will send the same by him each visit that he 
makes to Paris in your name. He tells me that 
the last cigarettes were much appreciated as they 
came to the corps when they had had practically 
nothing in the way of extra supplies for a long 
time. 

Marinovitch tells me that in the recent allied 
victories they have covered all of the ground 
where the escadrille was encamped at the time of 
Houston's disappearance and that some of the 
members of the escadrille had found Houston's 
plane which is now within the allied lines, in a 
rusted and broken condition. They made vigi- 
lant inquiry for a grave or for some information 
concerning the aviator, but thus far this inquiry 
has not borne fruit. As soon as it is possible I 
will go up to this region and see if personal in- 
quiry will bring any information. I am afraid, 
however, that the lapse of time indicates that 
little exact information will be obtained unless it 
should happen that Houston was wounded and 
is now in one of the German hospitals. 

I will send you every scrap of news as I re- 
ceive it. I have given Marinovitch a strong 

5 



invitation to visit me in Philadelphia and I feel 
sure you will want him to visit you too. He is 
an excellent young man. Just think that four 
years ago he was a school boy in England and 
that he has now made this record of service al- 
though he is as yet under twenty years of age. 

With sincere regards to Mrs. Woodward and 
hearty good wishes, I am 

Faithfully yours, 
{Signed) Franklin S. Edmonds 



4, Rue Tronchet 
August 30th, iqi8 
Dear Mrs. Woodward: — 

I've just been to see Mr. Edmonds and he 
gave me the glasses you so kindly offered me — I 
value them greatly as a "Souvenir of Houston." 

Ten days ago we had one of our escadrille 
pilots brought down in flames between Mont- 
didier and Roye and while looking for his body 
came across a motor of a Spad that had been 
lying there for months. I was not in the bunch 
that found it, but they took the number and 
when we looked it up in the books we saw it was 
Houston's. I was going to go out next day and 
investigate and see if there was a grave or any- 

6 



thing there, but unfortunately we had to pack 
up that night and left at daybreak for another 
part of the front. The motor was near a little 
village southeast of Montdidier and I have asked 
the authorities to make investigation. 

Thanking you for the glasses, and sorry not to 
be able to give you any more information, 
Yours sincerely, 
(Signed) Pierre Marinovitch, 

Escadrille 94, S. P. 2$. 

Baron Fersen, referred to several times in 
Houston's letters, came to this country as the head 
of a Russian Mission during the summer of 1918. 

As Houston made Baron Fersen's apartments 
in Paris his headquarters while on leave, and as 
he and the Baron were thrown quite intimately 
together, we include the following letter: 

New York, Dec. 12th, 1918 
Dear Dr. Woodward: — 

One of the reasons why I still believe that some 
day Houston will come back is that it seems to 
me impossible that such a fine character as his 
came into this world just to be wiped out without 
ever having had more opportunity to express itself 
in practical help to humanity's evolution. 

7 



I have known Houston more intimately than 
most people did. I was fortunate enough to 
penetrate into the sacred chamber of his soul, 
and the treasures I found there were such that I 
decided to ask him to collaborate with me after 
this war, in the various humanitarian reforms on 
which I expect to be able to work in Russia. 

Houston was an exceptionally gifted man, 
but I believe only very few knew the depth and 
seriousness of his thought and aim in life. Most 
people only saw what he showed on the surface, 
but his real nature, so fine, so noble, so generous 
and so intelligent, was hidden, unknown except to 
few, and I am glad to pay in this letter tribute to 
a friend, of whom I am proud that he is my friend. 
Very sincerely yours, 

Eugene Fersen 

ernest sargent clark, 
gibbstown, n. j. 

April 13th, IQ18 
Dr. George Woodward, 

Krisheim, 
Chestnut Hill 
My dear Dr. Woodward: — 

In a recent paper I learned with much sorrow 
of the report "missing " concerning your son Hous- 
ton. I write you a note telling you of my sorrow, 

8 



for I regarded Houston or "Woody" as we called 
him as a warm friend. 

It was my privilege to meet him in France and 
to know him better as a member of the same 
ambulance section, old 13. While we were 
doing our heaviest work at Thuizy and LePlaine 
he was a mighty good worker and soon won his 
way into the good feelings of all the older men. 

I enclose a photograph of the section taken at 
Champigneul where we were en repos. You can 
find him in the group. 

Please pardon me if I am intruding by writing 
this note, but I do it in a spirit of sympathy. 
Look forward to the best — he may be a prisoner, 
but if not, he died doing a man's job. 

I am glad to say I return soon. 

Yours most cordially, 
{Signed) Ernest Sargent Clark 

January 21st, 1919 
My dear Mrs. Woodward: — 

I am taking a belated opportunity to express 
to you the very great sorrow that Houston's 
death has caused me and to extend my sym- 
pathy to you and Dr. Woodward. 

My fondness and admiration for Houston 
began at our acquaintanceship on the "Chicago" 

9 



and increased during our career together in the 
ambulance into a very firm friendship of which I 
shall always be proud. 

Houston made friends quickly in Section 13 by 
his generous personality, but when the section 
ran into very hard work during the offensive at 
Mont Cornillet, his friendships were cemented 
by a very great admiration for his tremendous 
and untiring energy, which he devoted with all 
his soul to the performance of his duty as am- 
bulance driver. His comrades and officers were 
all quick to appreciate such enthusiastic zeal 
which enabled him to accomplish so much more 
than the rest of us. He was always ready to 
forego his turn to rest if it were possible to carry 
one more load of blesses. His courage, which 
appeared at times to amount to rashness, was in 
reality prompted by his desire to throw every- 
thing he had into his work without thought 
or desire of reserving himself. It was this same 
quality that led him to join the flying corps. 
It was apparent to Houston, as to all his friends, 
that aviation was the service that he was ex- 
actly fitted for, and the only branch in which 
he could do his utmost share in the war, and al- 
though he was well aware of the danger con- 
nected with this service, he was always im- 

10 



patient of any suggestion that consideration of 
his own safety should enter into his decision to 
fly. He simply knew that he could accomplish 
more by joining the aviation service, so he joined. 
He would have been the last person to have con- 
sidered himself heroic. 

I understand that when last seen he was in 
combat with a German plane, and I am sure 
that such was the way he would have chosen to 
meet his death. 

I am unable to express in words my fondness 
for Woodie, but I can say simply that he was my 
closest and truest friend while I was in France, 
and I feel that his friendship and the memories 
of him will never be forgotten as long as I live. 
Sincerely yours, 

James A. Develin, Jr. 

The following is an extract from a letter of Miss 
Elizabeth Frazer, a correspondent of the Saturday 
Evening Post, furnished through the courtesy of 
the editor, Mr. George Horace Lorimer : 

Paris, December 2Q, iqi8. 
"I have just received your letter of December 
6, and in the afternoon went out on the search of 
Mr. Houston Woodward. I put a tracer on at 

2 II 



the French Aviation Headquarters, the Ameri- 
can Aviation H. Q., and the Red Cross. I think 
it extremely doubtful if we can get hold of the 
French Infantry records of the French army 
around Montdidier in April, which would be the 
only method of learning exactly what German 
troops were opposite them at that time. Those 
reports are extremely confidential, even now, de- 
pending on the reports of French spies, results of 
raids, etc., and it would take more influence than I 
possess to reach them. But as soon as I receive 
the present address of the commandant of the 
Spad 94 squadron, I'm going to write him about it. 
"I should say that the Red Cross has already 
a correspondence and complete dossier on this 
case — a portfolio of several hundred sheets, and 
they seem to have gone into the matter very 
thoroughly. I read over that dossier yesterday, 
and it embodied reports from his commander, a 
sergeant, the British Red Cross, the Spanish Em- 
bassy, the Berne and Geneva prison authorities, 
and dozens of private confirmatory sources — and 
they all led to just nothing at all; the fact that he 
was lost in the mist and nobody could tell whether 
he was alive or dead. The Germans, apparently, 
according to the Spanish report, have no record 
of his being taken prisoner." 

12 



SCHOOL AND COLLEGE 
LETTERS 

Houston was always a very good correspond- 
ent from his early days. Believing that an 
example of his earlier letters will be interesting 
to his friends, we have selected the three following. 



SCHOOL AND COLLEGE LETTERS 

From Taft School 

Sunday Eve., 
March 8, 1914 
Dear Mother: — 

Well, here I am again writing my regular Sun- 
day letter. It seems months since I last wrote 
you. 

Only ten more days, and I will be home again, 
to stay for two weeks this time. This last term 
has gone the fastest of any since I have been in 
the school. I hope the next one goes as fast. 

I received a privilege last week, so am allowed 
to study in my room any time at all. I do hope 
that I average 80 for the month, but I will have 
to work like everything this coming week to do it. 
Our exams are all this week, too. 

In rummaging over some old papers this morn- 
ing, I found a theme which I wrote last year, and 
which I got 100 on. I re-copied it, touching it 
up here and there, and am going to hand it into 
the Oracle. I want to make the board this 
month, and to do so, have to have six stories done 
by April first. 

15 



I am glad you people enjoyed Forbes-Robert- 
son. Although you may not think so, I was really 
very anxious to see him, but did not want to see 
him twice. 

I am surprised to find that I am interested in 
your birds. Having been home and seen the 
trap, and "bob-tail," and the cardinals, I was 
really quite interested in reading your letter 
about the new cardinal pair. The buncoes 
and sparrows don't appeal to me much, but I 
really am fond of those cardinals. 

Maybe Mr. Taft doesn't think much of me 
now. Mr. Dallas was visiting me the other night, 
and he said that he inquired of Mr. Taft how 
many points to charge me for going home so long. 
Mr. Taft replied, "I don't want to charge him 
any, but I suppose I have to as a matter of form." 
Mr. Dallas then said that the "king" had re- 
marked that I had taken a big improvement and 
was coming along much better than he had 
thought I was going to. Believe me, when the 
rex says that kind of a thing about a boy up 
here, there's something in it. 

Bishop Lloyd came up here today for confirma- 
tion. There were only four to be confirmed. I 
did not get an opportunity to speak to him, al- 
though I wanted to. He preached two of the 

16 



very best sermons I have ever heard in all my 
life this morning and afternoon. I could listen 
to him easily for an hour every day in the week. 
I think he is the finest preacher I have ever heard. 

As I told you when home, we are to have self- 
government next term. All the upper-middlers 
are to room on one corridor. This necessitated 
some doubling-up, so I am going to room with 

Frank G , a very nice fellow from Fall River. 

I had preferred to room alone, for I think that it 
is more practical, but as it would cause complica- 
tions I doubled up. I was really very lucky in 

getting G , for he is the best fellow of those 

who are doubling. 

Please let me know how you feel about my 
theatre-going this vacation. There are several 
boys who would like to come down to see me, but 
I don't think I shall ask them if you don't want 
me to go to the theatre much. I don't know how 
they feel about it, but I know I shouldn't want to 
visit out much if I couldn't enjoy the pleasure of 
seeing the theatre. I can't see much objection 
to seeing shows during vacation, even if it is Lent. 
You speak of depriving yourself during Lent, but 
by gee, I work self-sacrifice over-time up here at 
school. How would you like to be made to go to 
bed early every night, get up early in the morn- 

17 



ing, eat an ordinary breakfast, work your head off 
for five hours straight, eat a plain lunch, work 
another hour in detention, then work at exercises 
all the afternoon, study from 5:30 to 6:30, eat a 
coarse supper, and then work yourself dead from 
7:15 to bed time, and then when you go home for 
a rest and a good time be forced to lead a quiet, 
hermetic, depriving, sacrificial life? I deprive 
myself of more pleasures in one day up here than 
you people do in a week. I don't get grape-fruit, 
cocoa, and chops for breakfast, I can't ride in an 
automobile any time I please, go wherever and 
whenever I want, have a lot of kids to amuse me, 
read for pleasure, eat good meals and hear music, 
play pool, sit by the fire, loaf, and be my own 
master. Of course, that's what I came to school 
for, but I don't think life from January 6th to 
June 22nd should all be a bed of thorns, and it 
seems to me that vacations ought to be just as 
happy as possible and as theatres are almost the 
brightest spots in vacations, why — but I'll let you 
dope the rest out. 

I didn't mean to spend so much time arguing, 
but I wanted to have you see the matter the same 
way I did. 

I haven't much time left, so I shall have to be 
brief. 

18 



There are several matters I wish you would 
have attended to for me. In the first place, 
please have a bottle of toothpowder, and my 
shaving set which I left in my bath room, sent 
up here immediately, for I need both badly. 

Please have my mandolin brought in to Wey- 
man's to be repaired. This is the most important 
of all. 

Advise Stanley to look up all those records I 
sent him. 

Enclosed are two bills which fall outside of my 
allowance. 

Please ask father to send my March allowance. 
I am practically square with my bills, but have 
just bought a new suit for which I have to pay. 

I hope you people are not still sore at me. 

Well, it is almost time for bed, so I shall have 
to close. 

Au revoir for ten long days. 

Very lovingly, 

Houston 



19 



From Yale College 

Wright Hall, Yale College, 

October 25th, IQ15 
Dear Father: — 

There will probably be a lot of mistakes in this 
letter, as this is the first time I have used this 
typewriter. My roommate has rented it for 
this term. 

I am sending a couple of clippings from the 
New Haven papers. They are quite typical, 
and occur with disgusting frequency. Can you 
blame the college for being sore at the papers 
here? The papers are all headlining the little 
rough-house we had the other night and even 
the New York papers are giving accounts of it. 
The trouble is that the mayor of the city was one 
of the people who got mobbed. He was handled 
pretty roughly, so was kind of sore about it. No 
one knew it was the mayor when they did it. I 
was right beside him at the time, because he had 
grabbed a student, and several of us were mak- 
ing him let go. A Junior grabbed him by the 
legs and threw him down. That was all there 
was to it. I thought of swiping his collar as a 
souvenir, but thought it would be a poor stunt if 

20 



the fellow didn't have much money. Now I 
wish I had since it was the mayor. The fellow 
who had him down sat on his chest and was tick- 
ling him. It was really awfully funny, and the 
poor mayor was so mad he couldn't talk smoothly 
at all. The account in the papers was perfectly 
absurd and disgusting. "Wild student out- 
break" — "Whole police force needed to quell 
Yale outburst," and expressions like these were 
used by the papers. It wasn't a riot at all, just 
a good-natured rough-house. 

It has grown quite cold suddenly. I have put 
on an undershirt. I only have two, so will have 
to go easy with them. 

The first bunch of warnings has been issued, 
and it was a relief not to have my name on it. 
I find it awfully hard to work in the evening 
here. There always seem to be thousands of 
things to do. 

Got your telegram. Don't lay any plans for 
my coming home Saturday night. I hate to 
take a cut for Sunday Chapel. Would rather 
save it till later. If my Stutz is there I might, 
and I may anyway, I don't know what I'm going 
to do, but you would better not count on my 
showing up home that night. 

Everything is same as usual. Tonight I have 
21 



to go over and act as clerk for three hours at the 
gym, helping sign up fellows for the Yale Battery. 

Lovingly, 

Houston 



22 



From the Yale Batteries 

Tobyhanna, Pa., 
August 6th, iqi6 
Dear Mother: — 

I guess I have never let so long a time go by 
without writing, but it couldn't be helped. Soon 
after writing that last letter I received a big and 
unexpected promotion, which you apparently 
didn't understand according to your last letter. 

It happened this way. I decided I was going 
to make the most of this opportunity this summer 
here in camp. Although I never thought we 
would go to the border, I felt sure the training 
would be intensive enough to be of real value in 
the army life later. Accordingly, I threw every- 
thing into it, and worked like the deuce every 
minute of the day. I was pretty soft at first due 
to previous loafing, and so was very tired for a 
few days, but soon got over that and hardened up 
like a bull dog. Between my hard work, and 
trying to cultivate a military carriage, I made 
such a good impression on my officers that when 
Colonel Danford instructed the captain of every 
battery to recommend a man for position of top 

23 



sergeant of Headquarters Company, and, ex- 
officio, drum major, Captain Moretti recom- 
mended me. 

I was given the job, and I hate to think of what 
followed. I had been having an awfully good 
time as a member of the aristocratic privacy of 
Battery B. I had learned lots, and had a certain 
amount of time for recreation. The work had 
been very hard, but I like that, so it added to my 
enjoyment. As soon as I was made first sergeant, 
however, everything was changed. The man 
whom I replaced had been inefficient, and had 
left the papers in a terrible mess. Seventy-five 
per cent of the descriptive lists were missing, the 
morning reports were a terrible mess, there was 
no duty roster, and everything was a general 
hodge-podge. The company was made up mostly 
of wops and other foreigners who had been 
enlisted to bring up the strength enough to leave 
New Haven. These men were all under my 
direct supervision, and thrown in also was that 
awful band. 

All in all, it was the most riotous, mutinous 
crowd of rowdies you have ever seen. It was an 
awful big undertaking for a person who had had 
no previous experience in handling men in the 
military life, but it was certainly a wonderful 

24 



training. I started right in to drive those men, 
and drive them I sure did. It was very interest- 
ing work. Some men you could ask politely 
once and they would do as they were told imme- 
diately, while others you would have to curse at 
like everything before they thought you meant 
what you said, and then it would be necessary to 
nearly threaten to lick them before they would 
do it. The man ahead of me had been rather 
lax, but believe me, I shot discipline into them. 
The worst of it was that being top sergeant I 
had to be a model, and conform with every rule 
myself, which wasn't so pleasant. I was very 
tied down, and responsible for everything and 
everybody. I always liked to be irresponsible, 
it is so much more fun, but I couldn't be then. 
Anybody in the army will tell you that my job is 
the rottenest job in camp. It was especially so 
in Headquarters Company due to the captain we 

had. He is a noted Professor, but a rotten 

army officer. I don't believe he ever saw a uni- 
form before he came here. Jack Hoyt, our 
lieutenant, had to resign because he couldn't get 
on with him, as did also several non-coms. I was 
thoroughly disgusted with the man before I had 
seen two days under him. He was like a child 
lost in the woods, absolutely lost when it came to 

25 



performing his duties, and was only getting in 
deeper. I was up till eleven or later every night, 
and rose before five every morning, trying to 
systematize things and straighten them out. 
Finally I just decided things couldn't go on the 
way they were, as nobody was learning a thing, 
and I made up my mind that things were going 
to be run in a military fashion, or I was going to 
get out. Everybody advised me to resign be- 
cause I was doing first sergeant's work, the drum 
major's, and also the lieutenant's, as they hadn't 
yet appointed one. Anyone of these three is a 
job in itself, so you can see what I was up against. 

Things at last came to a head, I had a scrap 
with the old man, and applied for a resignation. 
I got it, and so am now a corporal, and a much 
happier man, with time to myself, and time for 
drill and military instructions, which I never had 
as sergeant, and which I came here for. That is 
the story of my sergeancy. It was one big hor- 
rible nightmare. 

Everything has been going beautifully ever 
since. When I got out everybody congratu- 
lated me, and only this morning Dick Richards, 
who succeeded me, said he would give me a lot to 
take the job back again. I wouldn't undertake 
it for $500. It is a rotten cross between an office 

26 






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clerk and slave driver. I lost five pounds the 
two weeks I had it, and grew dark hollows under 
my eyes from lack of sleep. I had plenty of pep 
and drive left, but it was killing me. Since 
swinging the pick and shovel again and going 
through stiff calisthenics I have once more 
rounded into shape, and am thoroughly enjoying 
life. 

Three Sundays ago I ran up from Philly in my 
Stutz with another fellow, went to Church with 
Uncle Sam and Charlotte at St. Martin's, and 
had dinner with Uncle But and Aunt Marion at 
Glen Summit. Two Sundays ago I took several 
fellows to the Summit for dinner, getting back 
just in time to lead the band at Guard Mount. 

Yesterday several of us spent the day at Buck- 
hill Falls, having dinner at Mrs. Harris'. I 
never spent such a fine week-end. There were 
girls from Brooklyn, Philly, New York and Balti- 
more, and, believe me, they were there. We 
could hardly tear ourselves away and flew back, 
arriving just a second before taps sounded. I'm 
going there every chance I get after this. The 
Stutz makes my life army de luxe, and it certainly 
is a fine life. I had a wonderfully thrilling ride 
Saturday night. We went to Scranton for din- 
ner, had a bully good evening, and left for camp 

3 27 



at 1:20 in the morning. Johnny Overton was 
the only one who started out with me, but we 
picked up three others there. Well, my brakes 
are worn through, the mountain roads around 
Scran ton are awfully crooked, with very sharp 
corners, and a precipice continually on the off 
side. I was in a hurry and it was a very foggy 
night. I cut loose with the old Stutz, and al- 
though it was so awfully thick fog you actually 
couldn't see the road, I averaged about forty 
nearly all the way home. It was terribly fasci- 
nating. I had to sense where the road was, it 
was utterly invisible through the fog, and the 
only way I knew I was coming to a corner was 
when I saw we were about to go in a ditch, so I 
would throw the wheel over. The fellows were 
all praying, and were terrified. Finally they 
gave up, and just sat back with their eyes closed, 
not daring to look out. When we finally arrived 
in camp every one of the men shook my hand in 
turn, and said they had never seen anything like 
it before in their lives. I would rather get 
away with a feat like that than own a candy 
shop. It doesn't sound like much, but I'd like 
to see you drive a car forty an hour in a blind fog 
over an invisible road you aren't familiar with. 
It is generally very hot here in the day time, 
28 



and very cold at night, sometimes getting down 
to just a trifle above freezing. I am thriving 
finely on this life, and take to it like a duck to 
water. It is pleasant anyway, but with my 
Stutz here and available two or three times a 
week, nothing more could be desired. 

We shall probably be dismissed about the 
first of September. If so, will I have time to 
join you all for a couple of weeks in the West 
before you return home? I would like to visit 
you a while there. 

I am in charge of quarters, and have spent 
nearly the entire day in writing letters, most of 
them to Buckhill. You can't imagine what a 
wonderful crowd there is there, and a uniform 
gets away with murder. We have had lots of 
fun parading the streets of New York, Philly, 
Scranton, etc., in our uniforms. Everyone steps 
out of the way for us, so we stand as tall as pos- 
sible, throw out our chests, and walk as if we 
owned the whole blooming shebang. 

Well, although I haven't written you for a long 
time, I have other letters to get off, and don't 
know when I shall get another chance. I am 
very contented with life here, and am having an 
excellent time. All the rummies have been 
transferred from our company, and a fine crowd 

29 



moved in, so life is exceedingly pleasant. I know 
you are having a wonderful time, and hope I can 
join you in September. 

I saw in the paper that Stanley was one of the 
best shots at Plattsburg. That's fine, and he 
will use it to the utmost in claiming that he isn't 
a parlor snake. Well, I have been top sergeant 
in the most famous militia in the country, but I 
must confess I prefer being a private. 

With lots of love, 

Houston 



30 



WAR LETTERS 



HOUSTON'S WAR LETTERS 

"S. S. Chicago;' 
March ist, IQ17 
Dear Mother: — 

The submarine peril is naturally the upper- 
most in your mind, so I will begin with that. 
Well, to tell the truth, it really has been quite 
exciting these last few days. We have been 
running out from New York with every port hole 
on the ship boarded up at night, including both 
public rooms and cabins. The lights on the 
promenade deck were painted bluish-green and 
only half of them lit. A long canvas strip was 
spread the length of the deck, covering the rails, 
another similar strip running from rail to ceiling 
of the deck. In other words, the entire prome- 
nade deck was completely canvased in. These 
were the chief precautions till we reached the 
danger zone. No wireless messages have been 
allowed to be sent, as they would betray our 
presence. Our position each day was not dis- 
closed in any way, but our mileage posted. The 
average run per diem was approximately three 
hundred miles, so you can see it is a very slow 

33 



boat, about fifteen knots under favorable con- 
ditions. 

We entered the danger zone at seven yesterday 
morning. I was so thrilled that I got up early. 
It really was pretty interesting. Two men are 
stationed permanently in the crow's nest to 
watch for submarines. A lookout is placed in 
the extreme bow with a horn to give immediate 
notice of mines, and we ran slower all day. Five 
ships were sighted early in the morning, including 
the Rochambeau on her way back to New York. 
Signals were exchanged with the latter by means 
of wigwagging and telescopes. Nothing in par- 
ticular happened all day. The French naval 
gunner we have on board stuck to his three-inch 
naval rifle all day, but didn't have occasion to 
use it, though he did train it several times on 
barrels which some people swore were mines, 
though I didn't think so at all. Immediately 
after nightfall the boat was stopped, and we lay 
to all night, merely going ahead fast enough to 
keep her pointed right. We made about thirty 
miles between sundown and sunrise; so you can 
see we weren't breaking any speed limits. 

About twelve o'clock there was great excite- 
ment. I ran into several of the boat's officers 
and crew having an excited parley in the foyer, 

34 



and cursed myself out for not understanding 
French better. The purser said, " line park pas 
franeais" when one of the crew pointed at me. 
I had played bridge with the purser, so he knew 
my knowledge of his language. I wished they 
thought I didn't know English ! Something was 
evidently up, for the men were very troubled and 
excited. A boy upstairs who knows French had 
been listening, and learned they had lost a key 
pertaining to some part of the wireless and an- 
other one which had something to do with open- 
ing the flood cocks. You cannot imagine the 
excitement and rumors which instantly stirred 
all the passengers. From somewhere everyone 
suddenly appeared on deck. The wireless send- 
ing-apparatus was disabled; we therefore couldn't 
summon help. German spies on board had some- 
how signalled the enemy's submarines, and had 
received a wireless that German cruisers had 
broken loose and were searching for us, and the 
boat couldn't be kept from falling into their 
hands because we couldn't open the cocks. Such 
and many others were the stories that flew all 
around, and even were believed by some people. 
Several had their life preservers on, and many 
spent the night on deck in steamer chairs with 
their life-belts close at hand. I was worried, 

35 



myself, about the wireless-disability story, and 
felt rather uneasy till about two o'clock when I 
went up into the bow and found that they had 
relit the mast-headlight, which hadn't been 
burning previously in the evening. Although 
the Captain had posted notices forbidding noises 
and lights of any kind outside, I figured that if 
we dared show our mast-headlight there couldn't 
be much danger from submarines. So I went 
below and enjoyed a good long sleep till luncheon 
today, getting awake in the morning long enough 
to eat a little breakfast. 

That is about all there is to say about the sub- 
marine question. There is some danger, of 
course, — about one in fifteen, I have estimated. 
These estimates have been very amusing. When 
I said about a week ago that our chances were 
one in fifteen, a lot of people said it was only one 
in fifty or even one in a hundred. The last two 
days most of these people have changed to one 
in ten, some even to one in five. After these last 
two days, and particularly last night, I think it 
is not hard to pick out who will make the different 
degrees of ambulance drivers. 

Our passage as a whole has been very comfort- 
able and pleasant. The boat is absolutely all 
that could be desired, but it is so abominably 

36 



slow! Great heavens, sometimes you want to 
get out and row, it seems to be going so slowly! 
It is exceedingly sea-worthy, however. When 
we were about half-way across we ran into quite 
a storm. The wind registered eighty-two miles 
an hour, and the waves looked to be between 
twenty to twenty-five feet from trough to crest 
level. Standing on the boat deck, I took several 
pictures through a crack in the canvas of the 
boat with her nose completely under water, and 
with the spray and waves blowing so thick across 
her that you could not see anything of the lower 
part of the mast, or of the bow, the deck, nor 
anything ahead of you in fact. It was all just 
a mass of white spray and water. That storm 
proved quite thrilling. Part of the rail in the 
bow was washed off after being broken away by 
the water, and the wind was so high that the 
boat often stood stock still, and several times 
actually seemed to be going backwards. Once 
I honestly think it did go backwards a foot or 
two, judging from the foam on the water. The 
whole thing was quite a lot of fun, and very few 
people were seasick. I was wondering what our 
good old Polly would have done in the storm. 
Would she have turned a back flip, would 
she have let the waves roll over her and stagger 

37 



ahead, or would she have been battered and 
crushed to pieces, split apart under the terrific 
strain, and gone down? I also wondered how a 
destroyer would have behaved. I have some- 
thing to say to you a little later about destroyers, 
— I won't worry you unnecessarily now. 

As to the crowd on board, the least said the 
better. If we had another week to put in I think 
riot would run riot towards the end. I am room- 
ing with one of the nicest fellows on board, a 
Harvard ex-sophomore, from Chicago, Garret 
Foley. I like him immensely, but I am afraid he is 
a little over-aristocratic. We arranged to room to- 
gether almost before the ship left the dock. Some 
of the other fellows are mighty nice chaps, there 
are a few first classers like Jimmy Develin, but the 
rest are absolutely impossible. A few are down- 
right muckers, and how they ever got into the 
ambulance I don't know. They'll disgrace Amer- 
ica, disgrace the ambulance, and least of all, 
disgrace themselves. I hope they get fired the 
first week before they have a chance to disgrace 
their country. We have been on the boat so 
long now, and have had such little exercise that 
everyone is beginning to get a bit pettish and 
touchy. This anxiety sets everyone's nerves on 
edge, anyway, and on all sides little signs of fric- 

38 



tion are beginning to appear. I have enjoyed 
the trip tremendously, myself. To sleep all day 
till four or five, read, play cards, or talk in the 
evening is the usual program. I have become 
fairly proficient at bridge and chess for lack of 
anything better to do, but am glad we have only 
a day or two more. 

(Later) 
The Captain must have become a little bolder 
tonight, for we are running full speed. The 
canvas screens are down, however, and the life- 
boats half lowered, almost ready for the passen- 
gers to climb in from the promenade deck. They 
have been this way for two days now. They now 
say we won't get in till Saturday afternoon about 
three. That will make nearly two weeks aboard 
the boat. No wonder everyone is stale. I 
suppose it will take all day Sunday to run up 
from Bordeaux to Paris. They say the trains 
are very irregular now, and the ride sometimes 
takes as much as twenty hours. There are sev- 
eral Fords on board consigned to the ambulance, 
and I would like like everything to drive one of 
them back to Paris, but I imagine they will send 
men down from there to run them back. The 
roads are said to be fine, running through Tours 
and Orleans. 

39 



You know I almost forgot that I was a man. 
I didn't realize until late in the afternoon of the 
27th that it was my birthday. The first thing 
I did was to buy a box of cigarettes and a bottle 
of Pol Roger, 1906. That was all the celebrating 
I did outside of a few chess games. Jimmy 
Develin and I both had our birthdays on board 
and are going to hold a little coming-out or 
coming-in party in Paris. Jimmy is an awfully 
nice fellow, I wish that all the Harvards were as 
good. Speaking of that, when it comes to Har- 
vard and Yale, give me Yale. Believe me, I 
don't know whether all these fellows are typical 
or not, but they certainly wouldn't get away 
with a thing at Yale, and they aren't any too 
harmonious among themselves. 

Well, I hear cards calling me. I mail this 
tonight. If we get sunk you never will get it, 
but if we do go down, blame Wilson if he doesn't 
declare war. Personally, I don't think there's a 
submarine within miles, and am going to bed 
without worrying. If people would only realize 
the futility of worrying! If we get sunk, we get 
sunk, and if we don't, we don't, and no amount 
of worrying in all the world will alter the situation 
in the least, and I can't see why people make 
themselves uncomfortable about events beyond 

40 



their control. The Captain is the only man on 
the boat who has any excuse for worrying, and 
he, poor soul, probably does a lot more than his 
share. 

Half-a-dozen of the ship's crew have been on 
boats before which have been sunk. Our cabin 
steward was made a German prisoner, and re- 
leased upon giving his oath not to take up arms 
against Germany. The gunners are praying 
that we see a submarine, as they get a tremendous 
bonus if they keep one off or else sink it. 

I have become firmly convinced that I was 
dead right in leaving college to come to France, 
and please don't think you made a mistake in 
letting me, for — well, you would always have 
regretted it if you hadn't! 

I expect to cable you care of Bonnell from 
Bordeaux, but Heaven only knows how often 
you will hear from me after that, as I am such an 
abominable writer. I did have a code arranged 
by which I could let you know various things 
while at the front, but decided it was hardly 
worth while. There is one thing I will do, how- 
ever. We aren't allowed to say at what towns 
we are, so I will let you know in this way. When- 
ever I begin a paragraph with a A without put- 
ting any letter above, the first letter of every word 

4i 



that follows will spell the name of the town or 
district where I am stationed; thus, A come 
home and maybe Paul and George not expecting 
any visits, etc. This sentence clearly spells 
"Champagne." I will put the date thus if I 
use the trick, and will put the sentence in the 
first 3 paragraphs — 5/7/17. Look for the date. 
In your first letter say "Your car was sold today" 
if you understand. 
Am stopping now. You know where to write. 

Very lovingly, 

Houston 



42 




HOUSTON IN HIS AMBULANCE-DRIVER'S UNIFORM 



Palm Sunday, April 2nd, iqi/ 

I am sorry that this is the first letter I have 
written you since coming to France, but, strange 
as it may sound, it is my first opportunity. I 
was busy absolutely every minute from the day 
I stepped foot in Bordeaux to yesterday, the 
31st of March, when I left Paris for the front, 
exactly four weeks after landing. I can't begin 
to tell you of all I did during the month, but will 
try to tell of the chief things. 

You already have my letter describing the 
journey across. The ride up the river to Bor- 
deaux was perfectly beautiful. Nothing like it 
in the United States. Everything so neat and 
nice, with here and there quite a large and very 
well-kept estate. Had dinner at the Cafe de 
Bordeaux, and rode in a first-class compartment 
with Jim Develin all night up to Paris. We were 
the only ones at first, but at Poitiers many others 
climbed in, so we had to sit up all night. It was 
a very interesting crowd, mostly soldiers, of 
course, and we had a very pleasant trip. It's 
surprising how well one can talk French if one 
has to. 

We had breakfast Sunday morning at 21 rue 
4 43 



Raynouard. It's a very large house. The ground 
floor is planned like this: — 



SO BEDS 



20 BEDS 



DD 



-H 

2.0 BEDS 



WAi^ 



There are old gardens, enormous lawns and 
paths. I never saw such an enormous place in 
the middle of a city before, except the girl's place 
in Baltimore. But it was altogether too damp 
and uncomfortable there — beds too short and 
hard, and all that sort of thing — so I spent only 
five nights there during my month's stay. The 
Hotel Continental was my headquarters in Paris, 
it was so much more pleasant. I slept there, and 
ate at the various cafes. I only had half-a-dozen 
meals at rue Raynouard — whenever I went broke 

44 



— but they weren't bad. My Paris life I'll just 
speak of lightly. As for working so hard in a 
machine shop, as I expected, the only times I 
ever saw a Ford were when I took the A. A. test 
and then the official test for the license. 

The most interesting thing we did was to go to 
Bordeaux and run fifteen chassis up to Paris. 
The first day out we went through a beautiful 
country, but the Fords, being brand new, weren't 
in a very good mood for enjoying scenery, and 
the dust made a very effectual screen in case any 
spies wanted to know how many cars were in the 
convoy train. We couldn't make Poitiers the 
first night, and didn't care to stop at Angouleme, 
so compromised and put up at, or rather put up 

with, for the night. We were to rise at six 

in the morning, but of course the Government had 
to select that morning as the one on which to 
move the time ahead an hour, so we rose at five 
and started at eight. Lunched at Poitiers, and 
spent night at Tours. Visited the Cathedral, 
cinema, and other places of interest, and slept in 
a bed which must have been a hundred years old, 
but its age was beginning to tell on it, and I was 
afraid it would collapse at any minute. Lunch 
next day was at Chartres. Beautiful Cathedral 
and good cafe, but didn't like it much otherwise. 

45 



In the afternoon on the run to Paris we had 
snow, hail, rain, and everything else imaginable. 
Sitting on soap boxes as we were, the protection 
from the elements wasn't the best, but, as usual, 
when anything isn't as it might be here, c'est la 
guerre. How good the Cafe de Paris seemed that 
evening for dinner! 

There's no use describing anything else. I'm 
at the front now. Sorry I can't tell where. 
Just arrived this morning after spending the 
night in a town ten miles behind the lines. I had 
heard about the rotten food one gets here. For 
lunch we had hors d'ceuvre, tripe and kidney, fresh 
bread and butter, lamb, potatoes, beans, several 
kinds of wines. Not so bad. I brought along a 
little gasoline (essence here) stove, so will have 
hot chocolate every afternoon with toast and 
butter. After lunch a fellow received a call to 
go up for some blesses. Went with him, and 
saw first glimpse of real war. It wasn't any 
different from what might be imagined. Dead 
horses in the ditches, screens along the road 
where we were in sight of the Bodies' trenches, 
shell-craters in the fields and filled ones in the 
road. The French 75s were opening an attack 
over the crest of a hill on some Boche battery 
which was trying to blow them up. Off to the 

46 



left were clouds of white smoke — stuff which 
proved to be a gas attack. We got our gas masks 
out, but didn't need them, as the wind wasn't 
blowing in our direction enough. The whole 
thing was novel to me, but it looked as if war 
ought to be pretty good sport. No shells fell 
very close, only close enough to be heard faintly, 
so I can't say I have received my baptism of fire 
yet. It rather makes you want to be out there 
on the line with the boys instead of merely run- 
ning an automobile around back out of danger. 
The men in the trenches were all covered with 
mud, and looked pretty wet and cold. Poor 
beggars, life is pretty wretched for them. Their 
dugouts are very comfortable, though; warm, 
dry and quite pleasant altogether. I couldn't 
look around much, as the blesses had to be hur- 
ried back. One trench was about seven feet 
deep, with wicker-like sides and board floor, a 
very thorough structure. 

Mail's going soon. Can write frequently now, 

and will, 

Much love, 

Houston 

P. S.: The money I cabled for is for a new 
company run by excellent men and will be tre- 
mendously successful. It is to treat peat in a 

47 



certain way which will make it an excellent sub- 
stitute for coal — a priceless and unpurchasable 
article now. The French government is helping, 
the inventors have been excused from the Army 
to work on it and the government laboratories 
have given an excellent report on it. If success- 
ful I will make a great deal of money, if unsuc- 
cessful the loss will not be a lot. 

I have met the most interesting people: in- 
ventors, scientists, officers, government officials. 
The most interesting was Baron Fersen. His 
family were intimate friends of the Czar's, and 
have many presents from him. His apart- 
ments were different from anything I have ever 
before seen, as were the reindeer-skin clothes 
he wore when at home. The foremost portrait 
painter of Russia was visiting him, and using 
one of his rooms as a little studio. When I go 
in the Foreign Legion I think I will have her 
paint my portrait in my aviation uniform. She 
is a princess of a house somehow opposed to the 
late Czar. Paris is without question right now 
the most interesting, cosmopolitan, and also 
pleasure-seeking city in the world. I moved in 
awfully high-brow circles. Never spent such an 
interesting, valuable, and instructive month in 
my life. Can't begin to tell all my experiences 

48 



there. One day for tea at the Ritz I was in a 
party in one corner of the room comprising Eng- 
lish, French, Serbians, one Italian, Russian, and 
another American. Every type in the world but 
the Central ones is represented generously in 
Paris. It is a wonderful show to sit outside the 
Cafe de la Paix and see all the officers and sol- 
diers of all the warring nations walk by. It was 
a lot of fun swanking around the boulevards with 
riding boots, kid-leather coat, malacca and ivory 
cane and other accessories. Our uniforms are 
very good looking when made by a good tailor. 
This P. S. is almost as long as the letter. 



49 



Easter Sunday, igiy 
Dear Mother: — 

I have just got your two letters of March 18th, 
22nd and 23rd this afternoon. I am very much 
ashamed of myself for having written so little, 
but I do seem to have been terribly busy. 

It is just a week ago today that I arrived at the 
front, but last Sunday was the only day of service 
to the trenches I have seen as we have been on 
the march with our division ever since. I say 
"on the march," but actually we have travelled 
only three days and "rested" six, which makes 
more than a week, but the travelling was done 
between five and nine in the morning, so can 
hardly count. 

I suppose the chronological order is the best 
way to write this letter, so here goes, always 
remembering I can't mention names to please 
the censor. 

Last Sunday I have already written about. 
Monday morning we spent mostly in packing, 
which took a longer time than usual because the 
section had been settled for about a month. The 
cause for our moving was that the division to 
which we are attached is being removed from a 

50 



comparatively quiet front, where they have been 
for some time, to a very active front, which will 
mean heavy work and little sleep for us. We 
moved only about nine miles, arriving in the after- 
noon at a quiet little village about five miles back 
of the lines. The rest of the afternoon I very 
foolishly spent in eating petits gateaux, or little 
pastries, and drinking chocolate and wine, but 
learned a very good lesson about stuffing, since it 
used up all my vitality digesting the mass, and 
left me with a great and glorious cold, from 
which I am now completely recovered, however. 
I am very careful about my diet now, though, 
you may be sure. That night I slept with all my 
clothes on, including wet boots, inside an ambu- 
lance with only two blankets over me, so was 
very cold by morning, which also aided in my 
catching cold. Lesson No. 2. Since then I have 
slept very comfortably in my sleeping bag with 
coat and boots off. 

Now that this finishes Monday, let me digress 
a little to speak of the sleeping bag. It is almost 
without question the most valuable thing I 
possess here. Inside its warm and waterproof 
covering I sleep between a quilt and four blankets, 
and am as comfortable as in my luxurious bed at 
home. It is really a wonderful bag, and never 

5i 



again shall I be without one if I can help it, while 
roughing it in the open. It is really wonderful 
what a difference it makes, and I can't speak 
highly enough of it. 

Tuesday the third we spent in knocking around 
the village. It rained very hard in the morning, 
but I kept perfectly dry in the excellent raincoat 
I bought at Rue Raynouard, a sort of petticoat 
raincoat without pockets or openings of any kind 
except for the head. The village was full of 
Moroccan cavalry, splendid looking fellows, com- 
manded by the French living in Morocco and 
Algeria. They are going to play a large part 
soon, and are easily the finest troops I have seen 
in France yet, considered as a body, that is. 
They sensibly wear the khaki instead of the light 
blue, and cut a fine figure on their Arabian ponies, 
with peculiar high cantels on the saddles. I 
want to procure one of their khaki steel helmets 
to wear instead of the French blue one, but I hope 
it won't be from a corpse that I have to get it. 

In the morning also I found a regimental boot- 
maker and had knobs put on the pair of rubber 
boots I bought in Paris. They are excellent ones, 
reaching all the way to the thigh, and have heavy 
leather soles. 

It cleared off after lunch, so took a short hike 
52 



through the beautiful countryside, lying down to 
sleep between the rails of the very narrow guage 
railroad which feeds supplies and ammunition 
from the bases to the trenches. We returned in 
time for our five o'clock chocolate, and at dinner 
learned that we would have to rise at three in the 
morning in order to start at five to go only some 
twenty miles or less. The regiment starts at 
seven when it moves, and we have to be well on 
ahead, hence the early rising. 

(Some days later) Friday, the ijth, Sec. 13 

It seems I never can finish a letter. I had 
better just try to write short ones and get them off 
instead of long ones. 

We have been en repos for a week now. This 
morning we were ordered to move at eleven, then 
at three, then told we would not move at all. 
That is typical of the French Army. "Never 
obey an order, but wait for a counter order," is a 
common saying here. 

I find sleeping in a barn is one of the most com- 
fortable beds one can have. Every few days you 
have to loosen the straw, as it gets packed pretty 
hard, and also pile more straw or hay under the 
head and shoulders, but outside of that the bed 
needs very little attention. Where we were be- 

53 



fore was not quite so comfortable in the hay on 
account of the rats. Great big devils, not in the 
least afraid of you; in fact I guess we have the 
fear. I decided they wouldn't hurt me if I left 
them alone, but the rotters chewed up the choco- 
late I had in the pocket of my sheepskin coat at 
my head. The noise the chickens and ducks 
make at three isn't hard to get used to, but I do 
hate that squeaking cry of a big rat about three 
feet from your head. 

At last I have hit upon the right combination 
in dress, and will always know exactly what is 
needed after this when roughing it anywhere. 
The first principal is to keep warm above all else. 
The second is to keep dry, and the third is to 
keep feet as dry and warm as possible. I sup- 
pose of course you know this, but I never realized 
its importance before. 

America's entry into the war doesn't seem to 
affect anybody very much. I'm very glad Mr. 
Wilson finally came in, even if only for the killing, 
because now we can have an army and navy in 
the United States, although they won't help out 
any in this war, excepting perhaps naval patrol 
work. 

The weather is fine today, strange to say. It 
rains five days of the week here and snows the 

54 



other two; that is the recent record, at any rate. 
It was snow alone which held up the remarkable 
British advance in the Somme. Everywhere 
one hears great praise for the British now. They 
are fighting like a bunch of wild-cats. The 
Boches are giving themselves up like the cattle 
they are. Within a few days in the Somme battle 
recently the British took 11,000 prisoners, and 
that doesn't count the Boches they drove back 
into the trenches, not wanting to bother feeding 
them. 

Hennie is doing finely. I hear from him now 
and then. The rear of his car has been peppered, 
and one man in his section had a three by nine 
piece of shell knock out the window-frame of his 
ambulance. It must have missed his head by 
less than four inches. 

The Boches are firing on our ambulances now 
that the United States is in the game, so things 
are livening up. Piatt Andrew asked the chief 
of the automobile division to give the A. A. the 
most dangerous posts now. Two sections were 
immediately ordered to go soon to these same 
dangerous posts, and thank God good old Sec. 13 
is lucky enough to be one of these two select, so 
voild. I wouldn't be surprised to see some of the 
boys in the A. A. killed every once in a while from 

55 



now on, but I don't want to be one of the un- 
lucky ones. 

Talk about hard life, self-sacrifices, tedious 
labor, etc., if this is it, give me those things the 
rest of my life. On my word, I have never en- 
joyed six weeks more than these last six in all my 
life. Paris is Heaven in my estimation. The 
front is corking good fun. It's a man's life, all 
right, but a jolly good one. I haven't expe- 
rienced a bored or dull moment for six weeks and 
we've been en repos for nearly two weeks at that. 

I've been to , a pretty big town not far from 

the front practically every day lately, and en- 
joyed myself immensely. 

If anybody says you don't need to spend money, 
just tell him he has his dope all wrong. I spend 
almost as much money here as I do home. That's 
an exaggeration, and I don't want to give the 
wrong idea, but you do drop a lot of coin here. 

The villages and farms all show evidences of 
the Boche advance in 1914 around here. The 
farmyard where we are now had one whole side 
of the quadrangle burned to the ground, and 
when these good farmers returned after the Boche 
retreat, they found every bit of live stock and 
supplies swept from the place. 

I love these French people. It's wonderful 
56 



how kind, patient, generous and good -hearted 
they are. Believe me, Americans can learn a 
very, very great deal from the French peasants, 
farmers, and urbanites in the way of manners. 
They are the most obliging, hospitable and kind- 
hearted people that can possibly be imagined. 
No wonder the people who live a while in France 
love the country so. I have been here a very 
short time, but have caught the spirit heartily 
myself. "Gentile" describes perfectly France, 
the French and tout francais. I shall hate like 
everything to leave this beautiful and wonderful 
nation behind me. The only way I don't want 
to leave it is with a little sign over me "mort pour 
la France. 1 ' The country is littered everywhere 
with ghastly numbers of crosses marked "mort 
pour la patrie" or not marked at all. Often the 
name of the corpse is unknown and a naked cross 
merely shows where a French soldier lies. These 
cross forests are the one thing here which have 
given me feelings of momentary sadness. I don't 
mind the agonized shrieks of the blesses, or their 
pleadings to die, or their groans of "mislre> 
mishe" but when you see a cross and think that 
there lies someone who was enjoying a beautiful 
life, and was probably torn away from a wife and 
several children to undertake a rotten, nasty, 

57 



messy business which no one wanted, it does hit 
you pretty hard . And then to see those fine chaps 
in the towns resting, laughing, and enjoying life 
to the fullest, and a few days later hear they had 
been killed at the front, it certainly does seem 
terrible. Eh, bien! some of us are still alive, and 
enjoying life, which has suddenly seemed much 
more sweet and precious than it used to. 

Here comes another interruption. I'm going 
to stop here and send the letter now, for I don't 
know when I can write again. 

If you get this before McFadden sails, please 
give him those United States Army shoes I 
ordered from A. and F. in New York. I would 
like awfully to have them, if you can get hold of 
them. Will try to write soon. 

Very lovingly, 

Houston 

P. S. : Kindly save these letters. I want them 
as souvenirs later. 



58 



CORRESPONDANCE MlLITAIRE (POSTAL) 

April igth, 1917 
Dear Father: — 

Things have been going awfully lively the last 
three days. Was up two nights without getting 
any sleep, but got a couple of naps in the day 
time. Our present cantonment, or station, is 
within plain view of the Boches, and from the 
barn where we sleep it is very easy to see the 
shells bursting around the trenches. 

The French have just finished a tremendous 
attack. The number of blesses was overwhelm- 
ing. It's a terrible sight to see these men all cut 
to pieces. They are the most enduring crowd I 
have ever seen. Poor beggars, you certainly have 
to feel sorry for them. 

Saw a lot of Boche prisoners. They weren't a 
very imposing looking crowd, and did not at all 
seem to mind being prisoners. The poor devils 
all seem to be pretty thoroughly sick of the war. 

The poilus seem to think the Boches are all in, 
and will quit soon. Everyone is waiting for the 
end with great longing. 

If the United States send troops over here, I 
hope they will be the scum and not the finest, for 
6 59 



they'll all be killed or maimed for life. I'll never 
forget the results of this last attack. Am going 
to bed now to get a much -needed sleep. Have 
lost track of time, but I think this is April 19th. 

Love, 

Houston 
Ambulancier Americain, S. S. U. 13, Par B.C. M., 
Paris 



60 



Saturday, April 2ist, iqi? 
Dear Mother: — 

At last I have a breathing spell to spend time 
for myself, although I may be called out any 
minute. I am spending these few spare min- 
utes writing to you in a peasant's house with 
some delicious fresh bread, cheese, jam, and 
milk before me, so you can see we aren't starving, 
at any rate. 

Never in my life have I seen such work as this 
week. The attack started about midnight Mon- 
day, and things didn't slacken up very much till 
yesterday morning. I was up from ten o'clock 
Tuesday morning till nine o'clock: Thursday 
night, getting only a few naps now and then in 
the daytime. I only slept from eleven to one 
Monday night, so was practically up from Mon- 
day morning till Thursday night. 

I want to say right off I've changed my views 
about war. Sherman said it was hell, but it's a 
sight worse than hell. I hope that I never 
again will see the sights I've seen these last few 
days. The French attack along the whole front 
is supposed to be the biggest push yet; the 
German papers have called it the greatest battle 

61 



of the world ; it must have been one of the blood- 
iest. Our section was right in the midst of the 
thickest part, and the fellows certainly did 
wonders. Some of the boys got only four hours 
sleep out of sixty. The other fifty-six took in 
running in pitch darkness or the rain, and even 
snow at one time, tearing back and forth with 
blesses, and the way they stood the strain was 
marvelous. 

Night before last I had a mighty narrow escape. 
I was about one and one-half miles back of the 
front trenches, passing in front of a battery of 
75s, when a shell whistled just in front of me, 
and exploded in the ditch, spattering mud on me. 
It was such a tough night that two fellows were 
on each car, and the one with me swore he could 
have touched the shell with his hand. I think 
that was an exaggeration but the obus certainly 
wasn't any ahead of my radiator. Close enough 
anyhow, too close for comfort. The safest spot 
near the trenches seems to be a sort of no-man's 
land between the rear trenches and the batteries. 
It's a rather broad strip, with almost nothing 
there, and few shells seem to drop. Not so 
nearer the trenches or back to the batteries; 
that's a different story. 

You know it's remarkable what good luck the 
62 



American ambulanciers have. The English am- 
bulanciers have been hit, so have the French, 
but somehow the Americans have pulled through 
with but three killed and only a few hit. Several 
in this section have been spattered with mud from 
bursting shells, but that's all. I certainly hope 
this record keeps up, for it does seem remarkable. 
The sound in the world which displeases me 
the most is the whistle of an arriving shell. Be- 
lieve me, I'm not ashamed to admit that when I 
hear one of those blooming Boche obus whistling 
for me, I want to turn and run just as hard as I 
can tear. You can always hear them and tell 
pretty nearly where they are going to land, and 
when you hear one of those babies getting closer 
and closer, then see it land with a flame and a 
bang, and send mud flying in all directions, be- 
lieve me, you're mighty glad it missed you by 
that much. The road we drove over the night 
before last was strewn on both sides with dead 
horses and smashed camions and wagons. The 
Boches were shelling it that night and although 
most of the shell holes had been filled during the 
day before, I went into several fresh small ones. 
They seem to have the range of the road pretty 
well, but luckily most of the shells fall in one 
ditch or the other or to the side. 

63 



About the attack itself, all that I can say is 
that there hadn't been nearly enough prepara- 
tion made before they sent those poor devils of 
poilus into that sea of mud to be mowed down by 
the Boche mitrailleuse and shrapnel. The Boche 
artillery hadn't been driven from these positions, 
nor had their mitrailleuse been driven from these 
trenches, hence when our men started across the 
mud lake in the rottenest rainy weather imagin- 
able, well, our work tells the rest of the story, as 
do overflowed hospitals, the new graveyards, and 
the number of poor, shot, smashed-to-pieces men. 

I'll say right now, I'm not sorry Wilson hasn't 
sent an army to Europe during the last two and 
one-half years. I never imagined war was quar- 
ter of what it really is. It's true that our section 
has seen one of the biggest battles of the war — 
all the papers call it that. I have seen enough to 
make me wish strongly that the war will be over 
soon, that there will never be another, and that I 
can have the pleasure of seeing the Kaiser sus- 
pended somewhere with a rope around his neck. 

The leader of our section, who has been in the 
American Ambulance for a long time, says that 
no section of the A. A. ever did work like ours 
before, that the work done at Verdun last sum- 
mer (he was there himself) did not compare with 

64 



what we had done this week. Believe me, I'm 
darned proud to be a member of Section 13, 
American Ambulance. Our reputation around 
here has spread, and yesterday afternoon when I 

drove a load of four blesses into I found a 

lot of people gazing at my car with interest, and 
a couple told me they had heard of the work we 
had done, and fairly beamed their delight on the 
good old little Ford. 

People can say what they like about the way I 
used to drive my automobile, but I'll bet I'm the 
best-trained driver for this work in the whole 
section, almost. I find my Stutz training inde- 
scribably valuable now. It helps in sensing the 
road in pitch blackness, in spinning through the 
tightest holes, in missing camions and horses by 
inches, and in many other ways. It gives me a 
confidence in driving I could not possibly other- 
wise have, and helps out in every way imagin- 
able. 

This war seems terribly hopeless to me. I 
don't see how it ever can be settled in a military 
way. I hope there will be a revolution in Ger- 
many before long. It's the only way I see out. 
The Allies can push the Boches back a little at a 
time, but it costs terrifically in lives and munitions, 
and I can't see that the gain begins to compensate 

65 



for the loss, not the gain and loss I have seen 
anyway. The first night of the attack was dif- 
ferent from anything I've ever seen. The firing 
of the French batteries made an incessant un- 
broken roar from twelve midnight to six in the 
morning. We rolled through the lines of guns 
that night, and no lights were needed. It was 
bright as mid-day, the sky all red and gold, with 
many star shells and signal rockets adding their 
brilliant glare with the cannon's flashes. Jets of 
flame leaped from invisible guns on all sides, 
shells were landing more intermittently with 
their brilliant flashes and geysers of mud. Now 
and then we would come upon a wounded horse, 
shrieking and dying in agony. Shell-destroyed 
supply camions lay in the ditches, reserve troops 
were marching silently, grimly forward, groups 
of groaning, stooping bless6s were struggling 
gamely backward. It was hell let loose, and 
seemed like a dream, a delirium. I could hardly 
believe it was I who was passing through this. 
One could not think but had to act without 
thinking, on instinct, and the memory of the 
whole bloody, foolish business is burned on my 
mind in such a way that I can never forget it. 

It's time for dinner. I may be needed right 
afterwards, so must stop now. I do hope none 

66 



of us get killed, but we're running risks. I have- 
n't heard from you for a long time, but mails are 
very irregular. I hope everything is all right 
with you. 

My three most valuable things are my sleeping 
bag, my heavy rubber shoes, with thick woolen 
inners, and my muffler which keeps my chest 
warm while rolling. 

Much love, 

Houston 



67 



Post Card 

Dear Father: — 

Sherman's remark about war was only half 
right. I wish I would never hear another shell. 
People used to come into this war for adventure. 
This war isn't adventure, it's a dirty, stinking, 
rotten, nasty hell. There isn't a man living that 
likes it who has seen it close. Lots of things we 
read in the American papers are screamingly 
funny, but pitiable in their ignorance of what 
war really is. Even the Parisians don't know 
what it's like, and America can't possibly begin 
to imagine the terrible realities. The Consul 
General was here the other day, and said he 
would feel safer in the trenches than crossing the 
Champs Elysees. Poor fool! That's the most 
asinine remark I've ever heard. He was itching 
to see the trenches. You couldn't pay me, the 
other ambulanciers, or the French soldiers to go 
near them if it wasn't our duty. I like the am- 
bulance tremendously, and would like to reenlist, 
but feel it my duty to fight. Believe me, I don't 
want to fight, and if I get killed I hope I kill at 
least fifty of those cochons first. It's terrible, 
the things they do. I'll believe any story I hear 

68 



of them now. Is America making much heavy 
artillery? That's what's winning this war, for 
the British. They can't possibly make enough. 

Lovingly, 

Houston 



69 



Sunday, May 12th, IQ17 
Dear Mother: — 

I just finished reading your letter of April 24th 
this minute, and am answering immediately. 
Have been too busy rolling and sleeping lately 
to find time to write anyone, and even now am 
stationed at a poste de secours, and expect a call 
any moment. The French expect to attack again 
tonight, which will mean hard work for another 
two days. So this may be my only opportunity 
for some time. 

To save time, I'm going to just jot things down 
as they come into my head, which will probably 
result in incoherent reading, but as usual, "c'est 
la guerre" 

You spoke in your letter about sending Aber- 
crombie shoes. Thank heaven, they have come at 
last. I was about to borrow money and cable 
for them special. But please send that other 
pair. I will need both pairs greatly — if they fit. 

My ideas have been completely revolutionized 
about many things since seeing this war close. 
In the first place, I admire Woodrow Wilson 
greatly now, strongly endorse his policy, and 
think him a mighty clever man who has handled 

70 



the situation excellently. I 'm darn glad he kept 
the United States out of the war as long as he did, 
but now that we are involved, I think we shall 
be the ones who win the bloody game. France 
has shot her bolt. Her fighters now all lie under 
the sod. Her army comprises old men for the 
most part, and they are dreadfully tired. Tired 
in body and tired in soul. Her one strength now 
is the Foreign Legion and the Moroccans — but 
how those devils do fight! They are used only 
for attack, are never kept in the trenches for de- 
fense, gain ground nearly every time they do at- 
tack, and are the terror of the Boche army. The 
Boches are scared to death of them, and I don't 
blame them. I, too, would hate to see those 
swarthy khaki devils coming at me with their 
flashing black eyes craving blood, knife in mouth, 
bayonet set, intent on killing. They don't take 
many prisoners. Kill! Kill! Kill! are the 
words they use in describing their onslaughts, and 
it's their tradition that they are never taken 
prisoners themselves. I admire those Algierians. 
They're fierce fiends, but they're the most mag- 
nificent fighters imaginable. All last night and 
today they've been marching to the lines, hence 
we expect an attack very soon. We were ordered 
to have every car in perfect readiness to roll at 

7i 



six this evening, but I hope it won't be another 
sixty-hour session without sleep. I was up all 
night before last, and slept only seven hours last 
night, so am pretty tired to start this attack. 
I would like to describe the military situation 
here, but c'est defendu, as it would indicate our 
position. It's a tremendously interesting sector 
and we see every phase of warfare, from hauling 
supplies to artillery barrages and air duels — ex- 
cepting, of course, the attacks over No-man's 
Land. 

I am crazy to enter aviation. If that fails, I 
think I can study the artillery game till Uncle 
Sam sends his new young blood to drive these 
swine out of France. Fresh blood, that's what's 
needed. No amount of drugging the poilus and 
getting them drunk is worth a young devil of 
nineteen to twenty-six when it comes to a charge. 

And artillery is what I hope to see. Cannon, 
cannon, more cannon, still more cannon. That's 
the reason of the extraordinary British successes. 
They knock the very hell out of the Boche 
trenches, hurl a flood of steel on the roads in back, 
which prevents the bringing up of reserves, and 
when the Tommies, with their wonderful brav- 
ery, charge over No-man's Land, they find noth- 
ing but wreckage, with the Boches holding up 

72 



their hands, begging food. Prisoners? The 
British don't take prisoners during an attack. 
For instance — they come upon a dugout. " Wie 
viele Manner" they have been taught to yell 
down. "Sieben," answer the Boches, expecting 
to come out and be taken. But not a bit of it. 
Into that dugout the British hurl seven hand- 
grenades, and hurry on, leaving behind a mess of 
brains, blood, and shreds of clothing. That's 
the way to fight this war. The enormous num- 
bers of Boche prisoners taken is due to their being 
surrounded in big groups during a good advance. 
The English have paid pretty dearly, however. 
Mitrailleuses spit death at them from every hum- 
mock, burrow and shell hole. They say the num- 
ber of Boche mitrailleuses encountered is terrific. 
But the Huns never live to tell the tale after- 
wards. They're losing awfully heavily, the Ger- 
mans, but thousands upon thousands more will 
have to be killed or taken prisoners before they 
will give in. I hate it intensely, this wholesale 
slaughtering. Kill, maim, destroy is the spirit 
everywhere. Americans so far away from it 
can't begin to imagine the horror and awfulness of 
it all. It's true that our section is in the midst of 
the biggest offensive of the Allies since the war 
started, but even quiet warfare is bad enough. 

73 



VoiW Out on call. Must stop. Such is 
life. Am in excellent health, and taking good 
care of myself. Don't worry about my taking 
extra risks. There are plenty enough in ordi- 
nary duty in this bloody sector. 

Very lovingly, 

Houston 



74 



May igth, IQ17 
Dear Father: — 

I think I wrote Mother last, so I guess it's your 
turn for a letter. We are en repos now, and as 
everything is very indefinite and our division has 
moved, we are rather up in the air as to what will 
happen to us. Now that it is all over, I guess it's 
all right to mention a few names about where we 
have been, but I can't be too definite. 

I reached Maffrecourt, near St. Menehould, 
about half-way between Chalons and Verdun on 
April 1st. Section 13 was there catering to the 
lines around Maisons de Champagne, Beau Sejour, 
etc. If you have a good map of the Marne (dis- 
trict) you will see these places. Get a big map 
of the Marne, and you can trace all our way, as 
we have never left the district. The next day we 
left Maffrecourt and moved to Somme Bionne, 
ten kilometers — one kilo is five eighths of a mile. 
Stayed at Somme Bionne three days. Rained all 
the time when it wasn't snowing, and was hor- 
ribly cold. That was where I caught a cold that 
put my stomach on the bum. Left at four 
o'clock one morning and arrived at Lepine (six 
kilos east of Chalons) at 6:30. Slept most all 
a 75 



day in sleeping bag on hay in barn as I was pretty 
low. Stayed about three days at Lepine, then 
moved to Champigneul, about half-way between 
Chalais and Epernay, south of the main road. 
Stayed here ten days almost, while our division 
recuperated, a few cars every day doing the rounds 
for the malades. One round took in Pocancy, 
St. Mard, Vouzy, Chaintrix, Chalais back to 
Champigneul. The other took in Athis, Falais, 
Aulnay, Matouges, Chalons. 

Champigneul was a delightful spot. We were 
cantoned on a large farm, and lived the most 
comfortably of any place so far. Being way 
back of the lines we saw no real work, but spent 
a very pleasant week. Finally, the 14th of 
April, we packed up, leaving as much stuff as 
possible at Champigneul, and moved to Villers- 
Maruery, and here trouble, work, danger and 
excitement set in. 

Villers is a village about ten kilos back of the 
lines. It is owned by Mumm, who makes the 
champagne, and as he is a German, the Boches 
had left it strictly alone. It was always full of 
troops, but never molested, thanks to Mr. Mumm. 
Our cantonment was pretty poor, and sleeping 
quarters rotten, but we were never there much, so 
it didn't matter an awful lot. 

76 



The night of the 14th I slept on the hard floor 
on the mezzanine of a rickety old barn, so was a 
little stiff in the morning, but c'est la guerre. 
The evening of the 15th Develin and I took a 
walk to a battery of the 155s in action. It was 
a long walk, and we returned tired and hot, look- 
ing forward to a good long sleep. I had put hay 
under my bag, and it felt awfully good when I 
turned in at eleven. Well, at twelve I was 
awakened by a terrific bombardment of the 
French guns, their famous tir de barrage, also 
simultaneously came a call for cars. I got up 
after my hour's sleep, and didn't get to bed again 
for two days and two nights, and worked every 
minute of that time, scarcely getting time to eat. 
I think I have described our work there already. 

May 29th 
Have been too busy to write before now. It's 
almost impossible. Will adopt new system. 



77 



Carte Lettre 

May — igiy 
Dear Mother: — 

I am going to use these little things hereafter 
for my letters. Have been through two attacks 
since letter headed May 19th. The Algierians 
took Mt. Cornillet at a terrific loss and the French 
have been advancing a few yards every day since. 
We have been getting the blesses of these at- 
tacks. The whole section is pretty fagged out. 
The work has been awfully heavy. Between 
loss of sleep and constant subjection to the 
Boches shell fire, my nerves are pretty jagged. 
Three nights ago the Boches bombarded the hos- 
pital where we were working. It was a terrible 
piece of barbarism, the deliberate slaughter of 
wounded in a hospital. Seventy-five men were 
killed outright, and many more wounded. Our 
lieutenant had his knee badly hit, and may have 
to have his leg amputated. Two Americans 
were wounded, though not badly. I escaped be- 
ing hit several times by lying flat when I heard 
that the shell would land close, and the bits of 
steel went shrieking harmlessly over me. We 
added to our already splendid reputation by 

78 



sticking on the job throughout the bombardment 
while the French all sought shelter. Lots of 
men fell around us, but we weren't killed, luck- 
ily. The hospital has been removed, but should 
never have been so close to the lines. 



79 



June 13th, IQ17 
Dear Mother: — 

Just received another letter from you this 
morning, and I must admit that you and Father 
are much better about writing letters than I am. 
It really takes pretty much of an effort to write 
from out here, though. 

At last we are en repos. Seven weeks of inces- 
sant night-and-day rolling comprised our spell 
in Champagne. Many's the time we've all 
rolled forty-eight hours at a stretch, twenty-four 
hours without a wink of sleep is nothing to speak 
of now. We were attached to division after 
division — five altogether. We started work the 
1 6th of April, before our division went into the 
trenches, and stayed for attack, attack, attack, 
until the 1st of June. One division would come, 
attack, wither, and go, then another, but we 
stayed on for five such divisions and about nine 
attacks. The night the Algerians and Moroc- 
cans took Mt. Cornillet, section 13 broke the 
record of the A. A. for carrying bless6s between 
dusk and daylight. I greatly exceeded the sec- 
tion record myself by carrying eighty-three 
blesses assis in the camionette from Sept Saux 

80 



to Mourmelon Le Petit between daylight. It 
was at Sept Saux a couple of weeks or so later 
that the hospital was bombarded, and where the 
croix de guerres were won and the section re- 
ceived its citation. That certainly was a night- 
mare of a night. The Americans did better than 
the Frenchmen that night, and won such an ex- 
cellent name for themselves that we have been 
offered to be attached to an attacking division — 
a great honor, never extended to any other A. A. 
section, but a very hazardous job. 

I believe I have already written you about that 
bombardment. As for my own personal ex- 
periences, this diagram will best illustrate them : — 

I was in the door of the assis hospital when the 
first shell landed, scattering mud and splinters 
of the shell on the camionette though not on me, 
for I had gotten behind the car, when I heard 
where the shell would land. My blesses were 
just on the point of climbing in, but they hesi- 
tated a few seconds. Then obus No. 2 arrived, 
but thank God didn't eclat (explode) . The blesses 
in the hospital began to stir then, and about 
thirty seconds afterwards, when No. 3 fell, every- 
one cleared out the back door, and headed for 
the woods as hard as he could go. Men with 
broken arms, smashed ribs, banged up heads, 

81 



cripples of every description, suddenly became 
strong and fought for a way out. The fools lost 
their heads. All pushed for a place through the 
back door, resulting in delay, pain and confusion, 
when the front door lay perfectly open. My 
blesses took to their heels for the woods, and 
wouldn't get in my car. I grabbed two and 
tried to curse the others into the car, but to no 
avail. They were too frightened, and it was the 
luckiest thing in the world for them and me that 
they were, for had they gotten in my car, and we 
had started, shell No. 4, which landed just in 
front of the couche hospital, would have fallen 
right at our wheels, and every one of us blown to 
blighty. As it was I had just shut off my engine, 
and was wondering what to do since there were no 
blesses left to evacuate, when the shell landed 
and exploded with a prolonged and brilliant 
glare. By its flare I saw our own French lieuten- 
ant drop like lead with a horrible cry of pain, and 
at the same instant a French chauffeur standing 
beside him shivered, staggered and fell, with his 
head half severed at the neck, and an ugly jet of 
blood spurting out. The flare lasted several 
seconds, other men, who appeared more like 
shadows, dropped before it disappeared, the 
whole picture forming a ghastly, horrible sil- 

82 



houette I can never forget. Half sick and half 
dazed by what I had seen, I ran forward to assist 
our lieutenant, when the fifth shell dropped, and 
I had to throw myself flat in the mud to avoid the 
screaming steel splinters as they sang their way 
above and over me. I did not know what to do, 
and right then said the most sincere prayer of my 
whole life. I certainly prayed to God and prayed 
hard that night! Such things make a fellow 
pretty religious. Then I figured that since the 
Boches had the range so well, more shells would 
probably come, and that there was no use in 
remaining there with the chance of losing my life 
unnecessarily, when by waiting somewhere in 
comparative safety till the worst was over, I could 
return and be of just as much value and a good 
deal more than if I remained and got killed. 
This takes a long while to tell, but only a fraction 
of a second to think. I got up; ran to the door 
of the assis hospital, flashed my electric torch in- 
side, saw that it was empty except two couches 
lying helpless with broken legs on stretchers, 
didn't see how I could help them in any way, so 
climbed the small bank between the hospital and 
the road, and, just as I was descending the other 
side, the next shell crashed in right on the roof of 
the hospital exactly at the same spot where I had 

83 



been standing thirty seconds before. Two ago- 
nizing shrieks and groans told me that was the 
end of the two fellows I had just seen lying help- 
lessly there. It was the second time that night 
I had missed death by thirty seconds. Sorry as 
I was for those two Algerians, I prayed once 
again, and thanked God I had gotten out of that 
hospital before death came hurtling through the 
roof. During the next seven minutes or so, I 
flattened myself against the slight bank which 
marks the difference in elevation between the 
road and canal tow-path, listening to the shells — 
they were big ones — come whistling in, and won- 
dering where they would land. . . . 

Two days later 

. . . As usual it was impossible to finish. 
To finish hurriedly, as I have not much time even 
now, the Americans returned to the hospital be- 
fore the bombardment was over, and long before 
any Frenchmen appeared. As a result of the 
whole affair, our lieutenant had to have both his 
legs amputated, one at the thigh; one of our boys 
was wounded in the head and had to have a piece 
of shell extracted, though he is quite all right 
now, and another one was wounded slightly in 
the leg — the second time in the month he had 

84 



COPY OF CITATION GIVEN TO SECTION NO. 13. 

(seal) 
Ordre General No. 929 

Le General GOURAUD, Commandant la IV ime 
Armee, cite a V ordre de V Armee, les militaires 
dont les noms suivent: 
La Section Sanitaire automobile americane No. 13 : 
"Sous les ordres du sous-lieutenant Rodo- 
canachi, a assure, pendant l'offensive d'Avril- 
Mai 191 7, le service des evacuations dans un 
secteur frequemment bombarde. Ses conduc- 
teurs de nationality Americaine ont fait preuve de 
la plus grande endurance, de courage et de sang- 
froid, notamment, le 25 Mai, au cours de la 
releve et du transport des blesses, sous un bom- 
bardement meurtrier. " 

Le General Commandant la IV ime Armee 
GOURAUD 

Pour copie conforme 
Le Chef du Service Automobile 
{Signature) 
Le Lieutenant commandant la section certifie que le conducteur, 
Houston Woodward, etait present a la section pendant les oper- 
ations qui ont motive la citation ci-contre. 



been hit. Both fellows received the anti-tetanus 
injection, and it is said will receive palms on their 
croix — the first ever given an A. A. man, I think, 
but couldn't swear to. Our lieutenant received 
the Legion of Honor, and the croix de guerre with 
two palms — a magnificent tribute, but a poor 
substitute for a pair of legs. 

Section 13 men are the pride of the A. A. now. 
Permissionaires said that in Paris a tremendous 
fuss was made over them, and people could not 
do enough for them. 



85 



June igth, IQ17 
Dear Father: — 

Don't know how long I will have to write, so 
will make it brief. 

The pictures I took with the camera you 
thought was so extravagantly bought. It is an 
excellent camera, as you can see, though these 
pictures are but a sample of many I have taken. 
I wish now I had taken a lot more than I did. I 
had some magnificent opportunities for remark- 
able photographs, but either did not have my 
camera with me or it would not be ready, or 
something else would prevent. I certainly have 
some very interesting experiences to look back 
upon. 

Life is awfully quiet now. We are in a very 
quiet sector after our sojourn in the hellish Mt. 
Cornillet district. Mt. Cornillet is as bad as, if 
not worse than, Verdun, though, of course, there 
are not the massed attacks and counter attacks 
there were at the "gate of France." After the 
war — a very charming and musical phrase — I can 
tell you some awfully interesting things about 
this Mt. Cornillet. At the present time it is 
rather difendu, though it would be the best thing 

86 



in the world for America if she could realize a few 
very unpleasant but important truths. 

A tremendous amount rests on America. She 
is all important. Her importance cannot be 
over-emphasized. But she has got to go into 
this war with the same spirit she would have if 
Germany were attacking her alone with all her 
strength. This is a very grim business, and it is 
growing grimmer every day. We shall see one 
whole year more of this war, and don't you or any 
one else think we won't. Another winter cam- 
paign? Winter be darned. They are going 
right on with this business for months and 
months, as people on this side of the water realize. 
Why? This is a war against the military auto- 
crats of Prussia, and if Germany wins this war, — 
and believe me, they are by no means half- 
crushed yet, — good-by forever to peace, quiet, 
and happiness in this world to the next war, when 
you will find the world prepared and ready to 
crush them. Germany has the men. There are 
more men in her army today than ever before. 
She has plenty of food to subsist on. She is not 
short of munitions by any means. She has won- 
derful officers — is still mighty, mighty strong. 
And it is going to take every ounce of effort that 
blind, sleepy, slacking America can muster, to 
lick the Boches. 

87 



You all talk fine in America, lots of singing, 
flag waving, speeches and all that sort of thing. 
We see your papers — now let's see you get down 
to work and do something ! Words are cheap in 
this world. For God's sake act, and act quickly, 
or it will be too late ! If only the censor would 
permit things to be published in America. The 
United States can't know the truth, the censor 
won't let it, but I wish I had the power to go to 
America and let the people know there just how 
things stand. The things we could tell you, we, 
who have seen horribly disturbing things here at 
the front. Sometimes I shudder, and feel it's all 
up, no use, America is five months too late. And 
it may yet be too late. Many people depressedly 
feel so. I know my family is doing its share, 
but rouse those who aren't. It is a detriment 
sometimes not to know and be told the truth. 

You are very wise growing vegetables in your 
gardens. Nothing silly or funny about it. Very 
useful and necessary work. And above all — 
make and send artillery. Artillery is winning the 
war for the English. The French lost thousands 
trying to capture Vimy Ridge. The Canadians 
walked up the hill with their rifles slung over 
their backs, and when they got to the top, there 
was not a Boche apparent in sight. Why? 

88 



Artillery for days had pounded the Boche 
trenches into shapeless mud, artillery had bottled 
the Boche in their abris, a solid sheet of sleeting 
steel had prevented ravitaillement and supports 
from coming up the support roads, and when the 
Canadians appeared they found only corpses or 
starved, frightened soldiers. 

Days later 

I have just read this letter through, and realize 
I wrote it in a depressed mood about the war. 
The things are true though, and an awful lot 
depends on America. 

Have to run. Will send pictures later. Re- 
ceived cable, letters, and Mrs. Binney's stockings, 
which are fine. I am wearing them now, and 
will write my thanks when I get a chance. Am 

very well. 

Love, 

Houston 



89 



Post Card 

July 18th, iqi? 
Dear Mother: — 

This is a most delightful spot. Can't tell you 
how pretty. There is swimming, golf, tennis, 
riding, motoring — everything in fact. An awfully 
smart crowd is here now, so life is very interest- 
ing. It's such a relief to get away from the cloud 
which always hangs over you in the war zone. 
No guns are heard here, and you can breathe in 
safety without fearing to be bumped off any 
minute. I return to Paris today after a four day 
visit here. 

Very lovingly, 

Houston 
Deauville-La-Plage-Fleurie 



90 




A SNAPSHOT OF HOUSTON 
IN AMBULANCE DRIVER'S UNIFORM AT DEANVILLE 



July 25th, IQ17 
Dear Father: — 

I haven't time for a lengthy letter now, but a 
short one will suffice. 

I am now in the Franco-American Aviation 
Corps, at school in Avord, Cher, France. I was 
very anxious to get in this corps, but found that 
if I waited till August 19th before joining I could 
not get in, as they would already be full. As it 
was, I was about the last man whose application 
was accepted by the French Government, so it 
was a matter of ambulance for three weeks more 
at the sacrifice of aviation, or aviation at the 
sacrifice of the A. A. There were thirty-two 
men in our section at the time, ten more than we 
carried in the Champagne, and the work was 
very quiet, so my services were not much needed. 
We are in the Foreign Legion, aviation branch, 
regular members of the French Army. There 
are about one hundred and fifty Americans at the 
school here now, which is more than they have ever 
had in before. They are an awfully nice crowd 
who have joined recently, many of them old ambu- 
lance men. I knew a lot before coming down, so 
feel quite at home already. 
7 91 



Notice my new address and send all mail there. 

There is talk of the United States Government 
taking us over soon, but the only advantage I 
can see is that we will then be given a commis- 
sion in the American Army and draw good pay. 
I am here for three or four months, which is less 
than usual as they are speeding up instruction 
more than they used to. Charlie Kinsolving is 
about the only other fellow here you know. 
There's also quite a Yale representation. 

Please send immediately the $1,200 you sold 
the Stutz for, — that will last easily until next 
March. There's lots of ways of spending money. 
The food is miserable, so we usually buy our 
meals. Uniforms cost something also. Later 
when I have more time I will write more on this 
subject. 

On a rough guess, I should say I ought to get 
to the front again — with an aeroplane, not a 
Ford — in between four and five months. 

Don't forget the money for I need it badly. 

Hastily, 

Houston 
Ecole D' Aviation Militaire, 

Avord, Cher, France 



92 



August 6th, 1Q17 

Dear Mother: — 

At last I feel I have time to write a letter long 
enough to let you know a bit about what has been 
going on recently. 

In the first place, I severed diplomatic relations 
with the A. A. July 23rd, and came to Avord 
July 24th. I wanted to stay in the section till 
August 19th, but found that if I did I could not 
get into French Aviation, so considered it useless 
and foolish to sacrifice aviation for three weeks 
of A. A. work in St. Menehould, where there is 
almost nothing doing, and since there were more 
than enough men in the section already. Since 
coming here my only regret has been that I did 
not leave the ambulance two weeks sooner. Jim 
Develin will be home about the 1st of September, 
and he can explain in person much better than I 
can write the whole state of affairs. I have 
grown thoroughly disgusted with the ambulance. 
The crowd who have come over since America 
declared war are a wretched bunch of embusques, 
have disgraced themselves and America in Paris, 
and are of no account at all. All but a very few 
of the old Sec. 13 have left, the new crowd doesn't 

93 



compare with them, and I am extremely glad I 
am down here. 

Maybe you think by this that I regret my A. A. 
experience. Not a bit of it. I consider the time 
I served at the front the best I have ever lived. 
I shall always look back upon my A. A. life with 
the greatest of pleasure and satisfaction, but it 
grieves me terribly to see how the A. A. has gone 
to the dogs, recently. Enough on this subject. 
Jim Develin can tell you all about it when he 
returns to America. 

And now I come to a subject, which, though not 
pleasant to talk about, must be met squarely in 
the face. I am now in aviation and all that that 
means. You haven't seen for yourself, so don't 
know, but I have seen and know. I don't want 
to scare you, and shall be as decent as possible 
about it, but it is only fair to tell you of the dan- 
gers, and after speaking of them this once we 
won't refer to them again. But just remember 
this war is the biggest thing so far in history, and 
no one in the world really has a right to refrain 
from doing his utmost, down to the giving up of 
his life. I may live through it all, of course, lots 
of aviators do, but an aviator's life isn't worth an 
awful lot the way things are done now. I prefer 
not to worry you more than I can help, however. 

94 



Some day when I am not so hot and sleepy I 
will write describing the school thoroughly. Just 
at present I'm getting so sleepy I don't see how I 
can possibly go on. 

I get up at 4:15 every morning, attend flying 
class from six till eight, drill at 11:15, and fly 
again in evening from 6:30 till 8:30. So far I 
have had about thirty sorties, or flights, in a dual 
control Caudron bi-plane, and now do all the 
work myself except the landing, which I will 
begin on tomorrow. 

Am getting so awfully sleepy I can't go on any 
more, sorry, but will write soon again. 

Am very well, but pretty tired owing to exceed- 
ingly irregular eating and sleeping hours. 

Very lovingly, 

Houston 



95 



August ijth, iqij 
Dear Father: — 

I have gotten yours and Mother's letters all in 
a bunch lately, and have been surprised to hear 
you have not received some of my letters, for I 
wrote more frequently than you indicate. 

I am pretty nearly ready to be lache now. 
Which reminds me, I haven't described the school 
yet. It is the largest aviation school in the 
world here at Avord, having about 1,000 ma- 
chines, representing nearly every type made. 
There are two courses of instruction, the Bleriot 
and the Caudron. In the Bleriot the 61eve 
pilote is first put on a Penguin, a Bleriot mono- 
plane with its wings so clipped it cannot pos- 
sibly leave the ground. This machine is very 
difficult to learn to control, but it teaches the 
student how to steer on the ground — quite a 
knack when driving a Nieuport. Next you are 
lach6 to the "roller" class. These "rollers" also 
are Bleriots with their wings partially clipped, 
permitting the machine to leave the ground only 
a very few feet. Next one advances to the 
Decollet class — also partially clipped Bleriots — 
permitting altitudes of forty feet, then the student 

96 



is put on a Bleriot monoplane — the most difficult 
of all machines to fly. When bre vetted on a 
Nieuport he is some pilot after the Bleriot train- 
ing. The advantages of the Bleriot school are 
twofold. The pilot always is alone — never goes 
up with a monitor, and hence is on his own re- 
sources and initiative from the beginning — and, 
second, the Bleriot is the most difficult machine 
to fly. 

The other training is the Caudron school. The 
eleve learns to fly on a Caudron bi-plane with a 
monitor. As this course is much quicker I have 
chosen it, because I want to return to the front as 
soon as possible. The first three sorties I was 
merely observing passenger; then I gradually 
took over the controls. The air work is very 
easy; so is leaving the ground and using the 
throttle. Landing is very difficult to learn. I 
am now doing all the work myself, but sometimes 
make pretty poor landings. Of course the moni- 
tor is always ready to grab the controls in case I 
make a mistake. It is surprising how easy single 
flying is. Flying is the greatest sport in the 
world. I love it, and think I ought to get away 
with it pretty well. I am longing for the time 
when I can drive my own Nieuport and do all the 
loops, vrilles, spirals, renversements, barrel turns, 

97 



and other tricks. I went as passenger in a dual- 
control Nieuport, and never had such thrills in 
my life. It's the most fascinating sport ever in- 
vented. I shall write more of flying from time 
to time as I progress. 

Immediately the war is over I am going to 
Russia as private secretary to Baron F. and 
shall act in that capacity for at least a year, may- 
be many more. I don't believe I have ever men- 
tioned the Baron to you (I have never been able 
to describe one-tenth of the things I have done 
here in France) ; he is a direct nephew or grand 
nephew or something of Tolstoi, and also of the 
Count F. Macauley writes of in his "French 
Revolution." He is the most extraordinary, 
brilliant, and interesting man I have ever met or 
"heard tell of." I haven't time now to tell you 
about him personally. I met him last March, 
have seen him in Paris, and through him have met 
two Russian princesses, one of them the most 
famous portrait painter of Russia, and one of the 
foremost of the world — a Hindoo princess, an 
opera composer, one of France's best authors. 
But these are only the celebrities; in addition I 
have met the most interesting people imaginable, 
among them the Russian captain who was in 
command of the troops guarding the Czar in his 

98 



palace from the crowds in the early days of the 
Russian revolution. His account of the revolu- 
tion was extraordinary. This is uncertain gossip 
now, and not to be taken too certainly. Russia 
is pretty sure to be an empire again. No Roman- 
off will ever be Czar, and even now many people 
are beginning to look to a certain man who repre- 
sents the original royal family before the Roman- 
offs, and who will probably be czar or king modi- 
fied some day. That isn't too sure, however. 
Nothing is ever sure in Russia at present. 

B. Fersen asked me to be his private secretary. 
I took a long while in deciding, but am glad I said 
Yes. I am not going back to America at any 
rate. Europe has done more for me in educa- 
tion, development, experience, and pleasure in 
five months than America has in five years. I 
feel European, and men are needed here now 
terribly. More of all this later. 

Lovingly, 

Houston 



99 



August 17th, IQ17 
Dear Mother: — 

Today a lot of mail came in which had been 
delayed in A. A. section, and inspired me to write, 
though as usual I haven't much time. This 
paper comes from an excellent little Y. M. C. A. 
which has been established here at Avord. 

Aviation is the greatest sport in the world. It 
appeals to me more than anything I have ever 
attempted. I am now flying myself, always ac- 
companied by a monitor in case something goes 
wrong. By that I mean I do all the work myself. 
It's wonderful. Had a great little joy ride the 
other day, climbing above the clouds and spiral- 
ling most the way down in a very small diameter. 
Am very enthusiastic about it, despite the fact 
that it is very boring hanging around doing noth- 
ing in bad weather, which I fear will hold us all 
up longer than expected. 

Everything is awfully upset now. The Amer- 
ican Army is taking over everything, but very 
few want to be transferred. Thirty fellows left 
Avord for the training camp for Americans at 
Tours. They were all in the Bleriot school, but 
the Bleriot training is being stopped by the 

100 



French, so the men were sent to the Caudron 
school at Tours. I want to stay at Avord, as I 
am nearly ready to be lache (fly alone), but the 
lieutenant over us said he was afraid I couldn't. 
We will all be given commissions in the American 
Army, but I would rather be a sergeant with the 
French than a first lieutenant with the Americans. 
However, we will receive much more pay in the 
United States Army. The Franco-American 
Aviation Corps ceases to exist from today, and I 
am very sorry and disappointed. In a few 
months I suppose I shall be Lieutenant Wood- 
ward, U. S. Signal Corps, but I would rather be 
Sergeant Woodward, pilote, Armee Frangaise. 
At any event, I shall still be an aviator, and that 
is the main thing. 

I had entertained hopes of getting home for a 
week or two at Christmas, and then returning to 
the front, since I would have by then served ten 
months in the French Army. But the Americans 
stepping in have gummed the game, so now I fear 
I can't get home until the end of the war unless I 
am wounded, which God forbid. 

Believe me, I need your prayers now, so don't 
get discouraged, or think that God is getting 
tired of keeping my neck safe. I just hope he 
lets me live through this confounded war, for I 

IOI 



am beginning to long for some real work and a 
more or less settled life now, neither of which I 
have ever wanted before. 

Baron F. has written saying I can visit you 
a while before going to Russia. I expect to get a 
tremendous lot out of my position under him. 
He is an extraordinary man, and I will break my 
neck to make good with him, so am trying to im- 
prove my French, and have sent for a Russian 
history to study as mere essential preparations. 
He is going to teach me Russian, and between 
his personal instructions and constant contact 
with Russians I ought to pick it up pretty quickly. 
I get along pretty well in French now, having a 
pretty good vocabulary — Mais ma prononciation 
est encore trls Americaine. Ce pendant je le sais 
assez bien pour parler d'aucun sujet, et aussi pour 
icrire des lettres comme ceci. 

Everything continues to go well. Notice 
changed address and notify Ledger. 

Haven't enough money to cable weekly. 

Very lovingly, 

Houston 

Centre a" aviation Militaire de Juvisy 



102 



August 24th, 1917 

Dear Mother: — 

This is great. 

At last we're treated like men, not dogs. 

After nearly a month at Avord — which is a 
name synonymous for boredom, desert, and rotten 
food — we arrived here today to continue our train- 
ing on the Caudron. It seems almost too good 
to be true. Juvisy is only a few moments ride 
from Paris, we sleep on feather mattresses instead 
of dirty straw, the food is quite good, this is a 
very comfortable foyer — bar, piano, and writing 
facilities — and we get a repos every third seance, 
with official permission to go to Paris twice every 
week and unofficially we can go whenever we 
want and get away with it. We could practi- 
cally live in Paris and commute for flying, but of 
course will stick close to business in order to get 
bre vetted and go to the front as soon as possible. 

The captain commanding the school is very 
enthusiastic about America and Americans, so I 
foresee a very pleasant stay here for a few weeks. 
Have been to Paris for two twenty-four hour 
visits within the last week, and enjoyed them 
magnificently. What is the fascination of that 

103 



city? It isn't nearly as gay as it was before the 
war, but I love it more than any United States 
city, and have enjoyed myself more there than 
in any other spot in the world. Have never had 
a dull or bored moment in the town, and now 
know quite a large collection of people. Yester- 
day the Baron and I strolled for three hours in 
the afternoon all through the Bois de Bologne, 
he doing nearly all the talking. The more I see 
of that man the more I admire the extraordinary 
knowledge, cleverness, and conception of the 
man. He is the most remarkable and advanced 
personality I have ever come in contact with. 
His plans for the future are gigantic, and as the 
fortune he controls is nearly as large as his plans, 
and his intellect and ability greater than either, 
he's going to make something hum in a few years. 
I expect I shall get more out of three years con- 
tact with him than most people learn and expe- 
rience during their whole existence. It will be 
awfully hard work, but extremely interesting. 

Why don't you tell Stanley to go in aviation if 
it appeals to him. I have changed my mind 
about whom I think" make the good aviators. I 
used to think it was the reckless, devil-may-care 
sort of fellow who was the best, but I have found 
that it is the cool-headed, cunning type that do 

104 



good work more than the careless ones. Nerve 
is the first requisite, brains the second, but if 
either is lacking, it is impossible to be a good 
flyer. You have to think and act awfully quickly 
— it generally is a matter of life or death in air 
fighting, who can think quickest — but at the 
same time keep a cool head and under no cir- 
cumstances permit yourself to be excited. If 
Stanley goes into aviation now — there are lots of 
boys as young and younger than he in it (a Ger- 
man aviator of thirteen years was brought down 
in the last raid) — he can get to the front. It's 
the most interesting and only sporty side of the 
war. The aviators are a privileged class and are 
the pets of Paris, and can often get repos. Then 
the result of future fighting will depend more and 
more on the aviation. If the Boches can be pre- 
vented from ever crossing the lines — which is not 
hard, merely a mathematical problem of numeri- 
cal superiority at present — or even better, can be 
kept out of the air altogether, they cannot possi- 
bly do efficient fighting. Artillery is everything 
— but is rendered blind and useless nearly except 
in stopping an attack, if their avions can't direct 
them. And vast numbers are needed. Ma- 
chines never fly alone any more over the lines. 
They always go in groups, and attack in com- 

105 



binations. This combination game will be a big 
part of future fighting. Even now air fights in 
combinations are rehearsed behind the lines, and 
think of the future of this air strategy. Thus 
you see aviators are greatly needed. Piano is 
banging, men singing and rough-housing, can't 
concentrate to write more. 

Lovingly, 

Houston 



106 



September Qth, IQ17 

Dear Mother: — 

Aviation is coming along all right. I am flying 
alone in a Caudron, Gnome motor, and find it 
excellent sport as ever. The French lost two 
hundred and sixty aviators during August, two 
hundred through accidents at the front, thirty at 
schools, and thirty brought down by the Boches. 
Several Americans also were brought down. 
Julian Biddle was killed and fell into the channel 
with his Spad. Harold Willis, one of the best in 
the Lafayette Escadrille, was lost during combat 
at Verdun in the last great offensive. Doolittle 
and Reno were brought down badly damaged, 
but living. Chadwick was killed, while Chatkoff 
received thirty-six mitrailleuse wounds but re- 
tained consciousness long enough to land his 
machine, and is expected to live. 

I put in an application to remain with the 
French Army, for I wish to go to the front in a 
French escadrille, get the training there this win- 
ter, and transfer over to the United States Army 
in the spring. I could go over to the American 
Army now as first lieutenant. Most the boys 
did, but I have many reasons for wishing to wait. 
s 107 



If I make particularly good this winter, I have a 
chance to go over as a captain in the spring. 

Thank Quita for her letter. I have made a 
will here leaving the shares in the peat company 
to her in case I am killed by this confounded war, 
and they will be very valuable some day. 

If only Wilson had declared war six months 
sooner! How badly the American Army is 
needed now. I am glad we stayed out for two 
years, but it was a tremendous crime to have 
played neutral longer. Am still at Juvisy, and 
am awfully anxious to get to Biarritz for a few 
days at the end of the month. 

Am very well, but a little weak owing to a 
slight case of malaria I had for three or four days. 
Don't know how I got it, but the chills and fever 
were very annoying. Flew as usual, but felt 
always tired and weak. Am perfectly well again 
now. 

Much love, 

Houston 



i 08 



September nth, igiy 

Bear Father: — 

You and Mother have both told me to have 
pictures sent. I never had a regular photograph 
taken, but here are two pictures Charlie took 
when I was at Deauville with him. We had an 
awfully good time there ; the swimming was won- 
derful. Biarritz is my next rest objective, and 
Nice and the Riviera next winter. 

Have written Stanley to join aviation. 

There is a new rule now by censor that no mail 
can leave country with address of expediteur on 
outside, so it is really better to stamp letters. 

Aviation is progressing as slow as ever. Be- 
tween unfavorable weather and French ineffi- 
ciency one would think we would never get out. 
It is going unnecessarily slowly. Haven't received 
letters from home for some time except four 
in a batch from Mother which had been delayed 
in the A. A. section. Send mail to M organ - 
Harjes Co., Boulevard Haussmann, Paris. 

Pictures aren't good, but the best I can offer. 
Sorry, but when I get brevet I'll have a regular 
picture taken. 

Fellow was killed here day or two ago. Must 
109 



have fainted in air judging from way machine be- 
haved. Have seen quite a number of fatal acci- 
dents now, but it is queer how quickly we mortals 
forget things. Spend most of my time in Paris 
with Count F. There are more Americans 
and Britains than French almost in the capital. 
Ca va Men, and hope to be breve tted before long. 

With much love, 

Houston 

Cable 

October 2, 1917 
Brevetted yesterday. 

Pilote Woodward 



no 



Two Picture Post Cards of old Buildings 
in Provins 

Provins, Sept. 2Qth, igiy 
Dear Mother: — 

Flew here from Etampes this morning, on tri- 
angle for brevet. Fly back to Juvisy this evening 
and will try to make altitude test en route (2,000 
metres). Very rough trip, air extremely bumpy 
and clouds very low. 

Houston 



Provins, Sept. 2Qth, igiy 
Dear Father: — 

Flew to Etampes from Juvisy this A. M. — sixty 
kilometres. Flew from Etampes to here, one 
hundred and ten kilos. Great sport, but awfully 
bumpy. Was turned completely over by wind 
once, on side, that is. Scared me awfully. 
Clouds at six hundred metres high. 

Houston 



hi 



Post Card 

Bois de Rot, 
October gth, 1Q17 

Dear Mother: — 

Am on a permission of twelve days before going 
to Avord for perfection on a Nieuport. Was 
very tired and nerves somewhat upset, so wanted 
to rest a while in the country. Went to a little 
spot called Bourra on the south edge of the Foret 
de Fontainebleau on Saturday afternoon with 
Count Fersen. 

You wouldn't like this place. It's ugly from 
outside, and too fantastically ornate inside. We 
walked from Bourra to Bois le Roi during the 
day, stopping at Fontainebleau for lunch. It 
was a distance of fifteen miles, and made from 
one end of the forest to the other. Was just what 
I needed and feel much better for it. 



112 



October 16th, IQ17 

Dear Mother: — 

I can't begin to tell you half the things I have 
been doing since last writing, but probably you 
will be interested in hearing a little about my 
brevet. 

Juvisy was such an awfully comfortable and 
altogether pleasant school, and so very near Paris, 
that no one was in a hurry to get through, for we 
all well knew we would be never again so com- 
fortable and enjoy ourselves so much during the 
rest of the war as while there, so we made the 
most of it. After spending more time in Paris 
than at the school, I was eventually lache (flying 
alone) the nth of September. One then flies 
with a seven-cylinder Gnome motor instead of the 
Anzani. Being a rotative, the avion is conse- 
quently much lighter, thus easier to land. Eight 
tours de piste were necessary before advancing to 
the next piste. I was very, very careful my 
first flight alone, you may be sure. It was just 
like flying with the monitor, however, so it doesn't 
make one nervous. Strange to say, I think I 
made the best atterrissage I have ever made on 
my first lache flight. I soon grew confident and 

113 



tired of straight, simple work, so stuck in a few 
changements de direction and hairpins towards 
my last four or five flights. My last flight I took 
a little joy ride round a dirigible a few kilos away, 
and ended in a tight hairpin directly over the piste. 

The next piste in advance was to perfect our 
air work a bit, and make a changement de direc- 
tion. We didn't stay there long, making seven- 
teen or eighteen flights, then went down to the 
cuvette for brevet work. The first thing to do 
was to make three epingles de cheveu (hairpins) 
and a spiral. These were all easy as they weren't 
supposed to be a bit tight. All the work hitherto 
had been more or less monotonous, but now the 
most interesting part was to begin. 

To win the brevet, one has to make two petit 
voyages, an atterrissage en campagne and two 
triangles, and an altitude test. 

The first petit voyage was very simple. We 
went up the Seine to a town called Corbeil, turned 
without landing, and came back. It was very 
fine weather, so I climbed quite high, and peaked 
practically all the way home. Peaking means to 
coast with the motor either cut or reduced. The 
next day we were to make our second petit voyage 
to Etampes and back. The weather was un- 
favorable, misty, and clouds very low, but it was 

114 



getting near the end of September, and they 
always want to turn out as many pilots as possible 
for each month, and we were to try to finish before 
October 1st. I hung low and followed the rail- 
way all the way to Etampes. It was very rough 
going, and my baragraph looked like the teeth of 
a saw. Coming back was better. I knew the 
country then, and always could have the Seine as 
a landmark, so got up above the clouds, and saw 
the land quite blurredly and intermittently. It 
was one of the most beautiful sights I have ever 
seen. The clouds glistened beautifully in the sun 
and made a marvelous picture in the west with 
the sinking rays so pink and red. Man has never 
produced anything which gives the impression of 
billowy softness those clouds give. I had one 
thrilling experience. I was peaking down to get 
below the clouds near home when suddenly a puff 
struck my left wing and turned me over like a 
flash. I came bursting out of the clouds in a wing 
slip, dove into it to get out, and found myself 
plunging straight for another machine just below 
me. There really wasn't much danger, for my 
avion was in control, but the fellow was pretty 
scared when he saw me diving for him, and I had 
quite a thrill myself. Clouds are very rough and 
bumpy affairs. 

H5 



The next thing to do was to make an atter- 
rissage en campagne. This was easy, for they 
sent me to Melun, where I picked out a good field 
and landed without difficulty. Left the appareil 
in charge of the gendarme, and went to mail the 
postal to the school and have my papers signed 
at the Mairie. When I got back I found hun- 
dreds of people, mostly children, gathered around 
my machine, so took their picture. They were 
pretty much scared of the avion, so after rising 
and making a turn I dove straight down on top 
of them, redressing above their heads, and shot 
up into the air again. Some of them threw them- 
selves on the ground, and I could hear a few 
scream before I put on the motor again. I turned 
around and waved in reply to their waves and 
dropped my handkerchief as a souvenir. The 
last I saw was a crowd running forward to get it. 

The next thing on the program was the first 
triangle. 

{Day later) 

Four of us started out together for Etampes. 
The weather was poor, clouds lying very low. At 
Etampes we had our papers signed and sat around 
about three-fourths of an hour eating chocolate 
and beer. We then started out for Provins, but 
only two of us got there, one having engine 

116 




X>^ xx\*j22~ V^^^ ; GJZ*^ 



\jO 




~\~U_cl muL***\y 




QoXlZ*^*-*2 







>-*-*_»-? Xjl*-*-*. <^tz~~~~~A 







trouble, and the other descending to remain with 
him. It was much easier than I expected. 
Owing to low cloud-line I flew all the way at 
about only 1,000 metres, and had no trouble 
following roads beyond LaFerte, when I shook 
off roads and hit across country by compass till I 
got to the Seine. Struck it at Melun, which was 
what I aimed for. Had no difficulty in following 
roads to Provins, but it was i£ hours trip, and I 
was very glad to get down, as the rudder post was 
not built for my long legs, and I was consequently 
quite cramped. Had an excellent lunch, and we 
loafed around till five o'clock, when we set out on 
last leg for Juvisy. 

For the altitude test we have to remain above 
2,000 metres (6,500 feet) for an hour. If we do 
it on a triangle in the same day we get twenty-four 
hours extra permission after being bre vetted. As 
the weather was bad we had decided not to try for 
height that day, so left quite late. When in the 
air, though, I thought it would be quite a stunt 
to do the altitude, so when I almost reached the 
Seine I climbed immediately from 1,400 to 2,000 
metres. It was just a quarter to six when I 
reached 2,000, so I had to remain there till a 
quarter of seven. At 2,200 I lost complete sight 
of the ground, and didn't get a single glimpse of 

117 



it again for fifty-five minutes. Consequently I 
had no idea at all where in the world I was, but I 
didn't care as long as I came down in France. I 
wanted to climb as high as possible, but it was so 
damp that the engine did not run as well as it 
might, so I couldn't climb fast. The clouds were 
a solid bank of mist far below me, and I couldn't 
penetrate them once with my eyes. At 6:45 the 
baragraph touched 3,000 metres (about 10,000 
feet) and, although I could have climbed higher, 
I didn't dare, for the sun set at 6:40, and at seven 
it would be quite dark. I could still see it, but 
knew it had set from the ground. There had 
been a very strong northeast wind blowing, so I 
had been going back and forth north and south by 
compass when I judged I had arrived over Juvisy. 
I had passed the altitude test, so I reduced the 
motor all the way and shot down. I came down 
so fast that my head seemed to have a terrific 
pressure. My eyes hurt, and I thought the vein 
in the bridge of my nose would burst, so straight- 
ened out in ligne de vol till the pain relented a 
little. It had gotten pretty dark, and I didn't 
recognize the country, so came straight down to 
ask the way. The wind had carried me west of 
Paris. I landed in a field where some women 
were working, and found that the Bugue aviation 

118 



field was not far away, — about ten or eleven 
miles. They pointed the direction, I set it by 
compass, and went up to look for the aerodrome, 
being guided only by compass. It had by now 
grown dark, but there was a full moon, and I 
could make out the country by its light when I 
flew low. Several times while passing over 
forests I was anxious lest the motor should panne, 
but it ran splendidly. It was great sport flying 
by moonlight, but a little mist started to hang 
over the earth, and I decided to come down before 
it would be too difficult to find a good landing 
ground. Just then I saw a Caudron lying 
smashed on the field below me, so made a quick 
turn, shut off the gas, and came down. It proved 
to be a comrade who had become lost and 
smashed. A truck took his machine back to 
camp, but I spent the night at a little inn, stopped 
in for a visit at the Bugue aviation field in the 
morning, and hastened to Juvisy, whither I ar- 
rived without further incident about nine o'clock. 
Have to stop. Was highly commended by the 
commandant for making the altitude so late and 
in such weather. Am now at Avord, but expect 
to go to Pau soon. 

Lovingly, 

Houston 
119 



Avord, October 18th, igi 7 

Dear Father: — 

I might as well continue the last letter I wrote 
to Mother now. I described everything but the 
last triangle. As it was the last day of Septem- 
ber, and the school wanted to put through as 
many as possible that month, they sent me away 
on my last triangle, over exactly the same course 
as the first one. Consequently it was very easy 
to follow the country, but the wind was blowing 
quite a gale from the N. E. The leg from 
Etampes to Provins took 2\ hours of very hard 
flying, fighting the rough air every foot of the 
way. It wasn't so bad going to the Seine, but 
here I came down to seven hundred or eight hun- 
dred metres, and several times I thought I would 
have to land and wait for the wind to die down a 
bit. I tried to climb, feeling sure that it would 
be much smoother above 1,200 metres or 1,300 
metres, but I couldn't get up for it was so rough 
that the wind each time I tried blew me over 
vertically, and I had to dive hard into the wing 
slip to regain my ligne de vol. It was very hard, 
tiring work, no fun at all, and I didn't enjoy it a 
bit. It was simply a matter of throwing the 

120 



marsh from one side to the other the entire 
time, and my arm became awfully tired. When 
finally I landed I wanted to get down and kiss 
the ground, and you may be sure I waited till 
quite late before starting for home. The voyage 
back was very pleasant ; I just hit across country 
by compass, and it was a great relief to have half- 
decent weather. 

The notes on my work while at the school were 
very gratifying. They showed them to me, and 
translated into English they run "very good pilot, 
very good disposition, excellent brevet, perfect 
conduct, very plucky." Two days extra were 
granted me on permission for my record. Thus I 
had a permission for eleven days, seven regularly 
given, and two for work on brevet, and two for 
journey to Biarritz and back and then to Avord. I 
had originally intended to go to London, but didn't 
want to bother with all the red tape necessary to 
get a passport. Then I arranged to go to Biar- 
ritz, but had such an awfully good time in Paris 
that I couldn't tear myself away. I did go to the 
Forest of Fontainebleau with the Russian, and 
we passed three very pleasant and very restful 
days walking through the woods. I feel I have 
learned more from him already than all the time 
passed in college — in the literary line, that is. 

121 



One day we walked from Bourron to Bois le Roi, 
traversing the breadth of the whole forest, about 
fifteen or sixteen miles. At Fontainebleau we 
went through the chateau and had lunch. There 
are many junior United States officers studying 
artillery there. 

Have been flying Nieuports. Very fast ma- 
chines. Two American aviators were killed two 
days ago. One here and one at Plessy. 

Lovingly, 

Houston 
American Y. M. C. A., Avord 



122 



October 2Qth, igif 

Dear Mother: — 

In the first place let me thank you for the passe 
montagne, or woolen helmet, as I suppose you 
would call it. It is absolutely perfect — good 
looking, warm and a very practical model. It 
fits my head perfectly, and I like particularly the 
bit coming down in front, which keeps the chest 
warm, or at least protected from the wind. I 
wear it under the cork helmet the French Army 
makes us wear, and I can assure you it is of the 
greatest service. Brown is the color probably 
the most becoming to me, so you showed good 
taste in that respect, the wool makes it very warm 
and the shape is the most practical. I am rather 
curious to know where you got the idea, and how 
you knew we wore passe montagnes. 

Am flying a little Nieuport machine now, and 
like it tremendously. It is very fast, strongly 
made, and very sensitive. Some two years ago 
it was the best machine at the front, but has now 
been completely replaced by the speedier Spad 
for over-the-line chasse work, and never crosses 
the lines any more. It is a since- the-war-machine 
and though now obsolete at the front, is far 
» 123 



superior to any American machine. Such is the 
progress of aviation depuis la guerre. 

Father reproaches me for not having sent any 
photograph, — I couldn't, for I have never had 
any taken. Am enclosing one made at the Far- 
man school at Etampes, which was one of the 
points on our triangle. One of the boys is Alan 
Winslow, a great friend of mine while at Yale, 
and one of Charlie Blackwell's room-mates. 
Charlie, by the way, was sous-chef of the Yale 
Section, which was in the Vosges and at Verdun. 
He is now commissioned in a clerk's job in avia- 
tion. Poor fellow, he can't fly on account of his 
eyes and heart, and is very disappointed. 

Am beginning to long for a permission home to 
see you all a little while again, but am not going 
to take any lengthy leave till after doing some- 
thing at the front. 

Very lovingly, 

Houston 



124 



Pan, November 15th, jgiy 

Dear Father: — 

I am terribly ashamed of myself for not writing 
more often, and have no excuse to offer except 
unindustrious negligence. Unfortunately, when 
I do write these spasmodic letters, I can't put in 
one half of the things I should like to. 

My flying has progressed tremendously. I am 
in no hurry, however, and am taking lots of time 
in the schools, and just as long permissions as I 
can between transfers. Then the weather has 
been extremely unfavorable. Avord is a wretch- 
ed place. Mud and dreariness everywhere, espe- 
cially in dull weather. I fared quite well there, 
though, by hiring a room in a little shed down 
town which had an excellent bed. The French 
always have good beds. 

Pau is delightful. Situated at the base of the 
Pyrenees on a little river, it is very pretty. The 
hotel is ultra modern, the casino — Henry IV's old 
chateau — is very attractive, but "ferme pendant 
la guerre." The esplanade makes an extremely 
beautiful promenade with its mountainous back- 
ground, and the city itself is quite lively and 
attractive. There is a very fashionable American 

125 



colony, and the tourists are beginning to immi- 
grate for the winter season, attracted at present 
by the horse races. I have been down town quite 
a lot, and find it quite delightful. On s 'amuse 
trls bien a Pau, and we have all grown very fond 
of it. I like it better than Deauville or Trouville. 
Much more beautiful, and very bracing air. I 
am having such an awfully good time here that I 
am purposely lingering rather than getting back 
to the cold north and the front. 

The first stunt we had to do outside the monot- 
onous tour de piste was the vertical spiral on the 
eighteen-metre Nieuport. In the vertical spiral 
the machine is tipped up vertically on the wings, 
thus the rudder becomes the elevating plane, and 
the elevating plane becomes the rudder. It is a 
real sensation, and if prolonged for many turns 
makes one quite dizzy. I made my three in the 
eighteen-Nieuport all right, and then two in the 
fifteen -metre Nieuport, but my third, here I was 
too ambitious to make it very tight, and conse- 
quently shot up in the air each attempt, making 
a renversement and vrille by mistake. The 
Nieuports are wonderful machines. For a long 
while they were the best chasse machine at the 
front, but have now been completely replaced by 
the swifter Spads. They literally run them- 

126 



selves. Today I went from 2,500 metres to 4,500 
(15,000 feet) without touching the manche a balai 
(joystick, controller) once, correcting bumps with 
the rudder. They keep perfect ligne de vol at 
1,150 revolutions, and on a still day you can put 
your hands in your pockets and the machine 
takes care of itself. You can come out of abso- 
lutely everything by merely putting all controls 
in the middle, peaking into a nose dive, and re- 
dressing into ligne de vol. It's all great sport, 
but not so full of thrills as might be expected — or 
else we're used to it. 

You once asked me my first impressions of fly- 
ing. I remember all very distinctly. My first 
three rides in double command with the monitor, 
I was rather anxious and thought I should never 
be able to learn to fly. There seemed to be so 
many things to do, and it was so utterly different 
from anthing else I ever did. I was quite scared 
when he put it in a steep bank and peaked sharply 
to the ground. My next three rides in the after- 
noon I found to my astonishment that I was doing 
nearly all the air work alone, and flying all of a 
sudden seemed very easy. Gradually I learned 
to roll her on the ground, to take off, how to 
climb, to use the throttle, and then to land. For 
a beginner the landing is everything. It is quite 

127 



difficult to master, but once mastered never gives 
much more trouble. Capotages (summersaults 
on the ground) are very frequent on the Nieu- 
port, however. You generally see from two to 
five every day in the schools. I have been very 
lucky in not having had any so far, but I knock 
wood violently when I say that. 

To continue about impressions. Flying imme- 
diately becomes a fascinating sport to the begin- 
ner, and he wants to be in the air all the time. 
Gradually, however, he begins to grow tired of 
the monotonous tours de piste, and grows weary 
of having the monitor there scrapping with him 
and interfering with letting him fly as he wants 
(generally a very wise interference). Then the 
Great Day comes, and the pupil is lache, or flies 
alone. Aviation then suddenly takes on a new 
life and interest, but the monotonous tours de 
piste again begin to bore. Then as he masters 
the rudiments alone he gets freer, does serpen- 
tines, hairpins, changes of direction, and then sets 
out on the brevet test, a sample one of which I 
described to you in a previous letter. This is 
generally good fun, especially if the pilot lands 
now and then in chateaux, where he can spend a 
day or two as a royal guest, pretending a "panne," 
or break down. I couldn't go in for this side 

128 



issue as they were keen on brevetting me by the 
end of the month, and I considered the extra two 
days granted in Paris better than two days in a 
chateau. 

The early Nieuport work I found required great 
care and vigilance, they are so fast and sensitive. 
One misslip close to the ground is very dangerous. 
You see the average speed of the machines we 
drive now is one hundred and twenty-five miles an 
hour, so one must be very careful. I feel quite 
at home in one now, but don't risk chances yet. 
The Spad goes at one hundred and sixty miles an 
hour, and I suppose that by the end of the war we 
will have airplanes travelling at the rate of two 
hundred miles an hour. These are, of course, the 
monoplace chasse machines, and their drivers are 
the elite of the French Flying Corps. 

My three-hour flight this afternoon was rather 
interesting owing to the beauty of the Pyrenees. 
I was 4,000 metres (13,000 feet) skimming the 
crest of about half the entire range. The tallest 
peak turned out to be 3,800 metres, so you can see 
they are pretty respectable mountains. Covered 
with snow, they are easily the prettiest scenery I 
have seen since coming to France. 

I am quite tired tonight from my five-hours 
flying, most of it being between ten and fifteen 

129 



thousand feet. After 3,500 metres one has to 
breathe through the mouth — or at least it is easier. 
It is quite cold, but we bundle up well; most of the 
boys have trouble with their ears after a quick 
descent from high altitudes, but I have found 
that holding the nose tight and blowing and also 
frequent swallowing with the mouth open is a 
tremendous help. Chasse patrols are kept at the 
front now at an altitude of 6,000 metres (20,000 
feet) ; remaining at this height for two hours at a 
stretch is very fatiguing and in the end affects the 
heart, lungs and nerves. Several battles be- 
tween isolated chasse machines have taken place 
at 7,000 metres, but that is unusual. The alti- 
tude record is 8,200 metres, but the pilot had to 
take oxygen in tanks with him to be able to 
breathe, and then nearly perished with the cold. 
I don't believe they'll get much above 30,000 
feet for some years. I have never been above 
15,000 feet in an aeroplane yet, but probably will 
before I leave here. 

I have become quite discouraged about this 
war. The Germans will without doubt take 
Petrograd and Venice. Russia is through for 
good and may even sign a separate peace. Italy's 
army is permanently crippled, probably. I hon- 
estly don't see how the Germans can ever be 

130 



defeated. They are still very strong militarily, 
and have a long, long way to retreat. The army 
will never revolt, but France's and England's? 
The French are scrapping terribly in politics, 
several serious scandals have become public, and 
America — good Lord ! the amount of rot we read 
in the papers! Her "latest" airplane specifica- 
tions were six months out of date seven months 
ago. From what French aeronautic experts 
think, the Liberty motor is useless for a front 
machine ; she took over as chief aviation school 
in France, Issoudun, previously condemned by 
the French for their own purposes, and they 
say the most stupid things over here. " 'How to 
win the war' — by an American" is a sort of by- 
word here. The contingent in the trenches is 
paying for its swaggering conceit. We all have 
to learn, I suppose. I've learned an awful lot by 
just such things in this war. 

The caramels reached Knoedler Company all 
right. Thanks awfully for sending them. Would 
you and Mother mind giving me a good pair of 
field-glasses for Christmas. I can't afford to buy 
a really good pair. They are a marvelous help 
in aviation. It is very hard to distinguish a Ger- 
man from an Allied plane at a distance. Several 
aviators have told me how much of their success 

131 



is due to glasses, as they can see a Boche in time 

to manoeuvre before Fritz sees him. 

It is going to be a terrible winter. There is 

almost no coal, little sugar, few dairy products. 

The world here in Europe seems to me to be 

groaning in agony. Will this war never end? I 

came here looking for trouble. I found it, but 

have had my belly full, and will never search it 

again. How I long for peace and quiet! Must 

stop. 

Very lovingly, 

Houston 



132 



Postal Card 

Pau, November 22nd, IQ17 

Dear Mother: — 

Have finished here. Pau is delightful. I love 
it and am awfully sorry to have to go north again. 
The mountains are beautiful. This view is taken 
from the boulevard. I have flown very low over 
the river at just this spot. Was lower than the 
boulevard, also skimmed the mountain range 
shown in this picture. 

Pau, like everywhere else, is very deserted 
since the war. Am leaving for Paris and Plessy- 
Belleville this evening. 

Much love, 

Houston 

Cable 
Paris, November 24th, igiy 
Plessy waiting escadrille. 



133 



[The only letters of Houston which were not 
passed by the censor were those written at this 
time, and as they were returned to him we have 
no account of his entering the escadrille nor of his 
Christmas in France.] 

(New Year's Eve tomorrow) 

December 30th, igiy 
Dear Mother: — 

My last two letters to you and Father were 
returned by the officious new censor. This let- 
ter will therefore be stripped of any interesting 
news. 

At last I am at the front, and I find it much 
more interesting, and am much better treated 
than when in the schools. Everyone does all he 
can for you, so life is an agreeable relief from the 
schools, mixed with chronic boredom when not 
flying. 

Winter is unfavorable flying weather. There 
are generally clouds, snow, fog or mist, which 
make us keep to mother earth. It has been 
so awfully long now since you will have heard 
from me that I hardly know where to begin. 
The best thing for me to do is to write a 

134 



letter nearly each day for some time to make up 
for lost time, and take up different subjects each 
time. 

First of all, thanks an awful lot for the sweater. 
I like it just as much as the passe montagne (hel- 
met) and treasure the two above all my other 
clothes. I have worn the sweater absolutely 
every day since coming to the front, and probably 
shall wear it every day in the future until warm 
spring weather. It is very warm with that lining 
(a splendid and original idea), very handsome, fits 
well, and is altogether most agreeable. I sleep 
in it every night, and wear it flying. It has 
already traversed a large sector of the lines, and 
has penetrated on several occasions some kilo- 
metres into Bocheland. You didn't know when 
you made it it was going into German territory. 
But the Huns didn't get it — and they won't. 

We live very well here. All the pilots of the 
escadrille live in a large barracks, which is divided 
into chambres, two in each room. We have little 
gasoline stoves, so are always nice and warm. I 
had a very comfortable spring bed made, and the 
food is excellent. Consequently, I am very well 
off, and quite content. We have electric lights 
everywhere in the building, coal for the stove in 
the living room, a bar, reading room and books, 

135 



a phonograph, lots of dogs, and all other acces- 
sories, so are better off than the Parisians. 

That's all for tonight. Will write every other 
day or so for some time. 

Lovingly, 

Houston 



136 



Escadrille No. 94, S. P. 12, France, 

January 5 th, igi8 
Dear Mother: — 

I shall have to hurry up and do something 
about writing home, for I am way behind. 

Life is thrilling enough now-a-days to satisfy 
even me. The weather has been more favorable 
for flying during these last ten days than is usual 
for this time of year. Though there is generally 
a mist or low clouds to prevent work in the morn- 
ing, we generally get in from 1 to 2\ hours of fly- 
ing in the afternoon. I have had fifteen hours 
over the lines since December 22, which is excel- 
lent for the time of year. You probably would 
like to have just a few words about our work. 

Before getting on the "disparible" list, I had 
to undergo five hours of "patrouilles d'entraine- 
ment" just behind the lines. Although I saw 
several Boches, we had strict orders to avoid un- 
necessary conflicts on account of my lack of expe- 
rience. That was rather uninteresting work, but 
I became very familiar with the secteur, and, of 
course, with my machine. For over a week now, 
though, I have been disparible — subject to be 
called out at any time for special patrol work or 
for protection. 

137 



Today the French made a small attack, and 
our escadrille sent out two patrols, one to fly low 
and prevent any Boche from crossing for obser- 
vation work, the other to do the ceiling work to 
protect the lower patrol and also prevent Fritz 
from crossing by the ceiling. I was on the high 
patrol. There were three of us, and three on the 
low. For one hour and a half we turned, spi- 
ralled, jumped, dove, and hovered over the sector 
of attack at between 3,500 and 5,400 metres. 
Not a Boche was in sight — wisely for him, for we 
were very strong. Besides our Nieuports, there 
were many Spads on the scene. Fritz never had 
a chance. 

It was so dull, our chef de patrouille started a 
raid into Bocheland. We penetrated ten kilo- 
metres, and then, far below us, at 2,800 metres 
altitude perhaps, we saw two Rumplers (German 
bi-planes) . I could almost hear our leader whoop 
as he swooped down on them. I was right beside 
him, and never was so thrilled with the hunt be- 
fore in my life. Unfortunately the distance was 
too great. Fritz saw us, and both dove like 
frightened birds. There was nothing to do. 
They had a 1,000-metre lead in the dive, and the 
archies were barking hot. We straightened out 
in ligne de vol, made a vertical virage (turn), and 

138 



started climbing with all the power of our one 
hundred and twenty-horse-power rotaries back 
to the lines. The archies were shooting well ; we 
had to alter our course often. I had one scare. 
A C. A. (contre-avion) broke right under my tail, 
threw it up, and I found myself in a vertical nose 
dive with full motor. I was pretty scared, for I 
thought my tail had been shot away, and I began 
to wonder what I and my machine would look 
like buried in the ground after a 4,000-metre 
plunge. Luckily I was untouched, it had just 
been the concussion. They're nasty sometimes, 
those archies. I have been lifted twenty-five or 
thirty feet in the air by them breaking directly 
under the fuselage. 

Yesterday I was nearly in serious trouble. Two 
of us were doing the chasse just over in Boche- 
land. One Albatross (German avion de chasse) 
was hovering below us, but we were in the sun 
and he didn't see us. We got into position, then 
dove. I closed in on him from above, drew a 
perfect bead, and pulled the trigger. The mitra- 
illeuse fired twice, then jammed solid. Mad? I 
swore in five languages, for I was in perfect posi- 
tion. C'etait fini. Fritz was warned, I was un- 
armed, and before my companion could reach 
him he was vrilleing earthward at a rate which 
11 139 



prevented pursuit. Maybe I didn't give the 

mitrailleur at the escadrille . Next time I 

hope my gun will shoot. 

I claim no one knows what cold is till they have 
climbed to above 5,000 metres in a swift chasseur 
on a biting, way-below freezing January day. 
Whew ! On my feet I wear heavy woollen socks, a 
pair of slippers, and then the heavy woollen 
chaussais fourrees the army gives us. Comme ga 
j'ai assez chaud aux pieds. On my legs I have two 
pairs woollen underdrawers, heavy breeches, 
woollen leggings. On my body I wear two under- 
shirts, a jersey, a shirt, a sweater-vest, Mother's 
sweater, a leather coat, and over everything the 
excellent heavy fur combinaison the army gives. 
My gloves I stuff with paper, and my fur helmet 
keeps my head warm. I don't know exactly 
what the temperature is up there, but one of the 
boys has a centigrade thermometer which averages 
between fifteen and twenty below zero. I don't 
know just what that is in Fahrenheit, but I know 
it's cold, especially considering the speed with 
which we rush through space. 

We rule the air in this sector. In some sectors 
Fritz is king, in some it's a toss-up, but here we 
are the undisputed bosses of the third element. 
For several weeks now very few Boches have 

140 



crossed to our side and gotten back to tell about 
it. For ten days now I have not seen a Boche 
the French side of the lines. We hunt over in 
Bocheland now at will. I'm inclined to think it 
won't last long. Fritz is thoroughly scared here, 
and afraid to take the air. That's bad medicine 
for him. He's going to bring up a few crack 
escadrilles surely, and then the fur's going to fly. 
It's a good scrappy crowd in this group, and 
they're feeling their oats. This free hunting 
won't go on indefinitely, I'm sure. 

Well, I don't dare use any more paper. Thanks 
a thousand times for the delicious caramels. 
Christmas box has not yet arrived. 

Lots of Love, 

Houston 



141 



Escadrille No. Q4, S. P. 12, 

January 5 th, iqi8 

Dear Father: — 

I wrote Mother quite a long letter tonight, but 
after sealing it I thought I might send you this 
service du jour, which is posted every night in our 
barracks. This one is today's list. I was first, 
but tomorrow I shall be among the last three or 
four, the next day higher up, according to the 
missions executed, and so forth. 

Service du 5 Janvier 1918 

Caporal Woodward 
Lieut. Parizet 

Brigad. B 

M. des L. O 

Lieut. de L 



M. d. L. Marinovitch 

Caporal Crehore 

Caporal M 

Caporal C 

Lieut. L 

M. d. L. B 

Adjt. de C 



Trots pilotes de la N. 156 et trois de la N. 94 serent auterises a 
prendre le tracteur qui partira demainni a 7 h. 30 pour les obse- 
ques du Caporal Nicholas. 

142 



Les soldats Rispal et Prodault serent auterises d, s'y rendre par 
le meme tracteur. 

Mission ny — Fermer d' Alger 
Caporal Woodward 
Lieut. Parizet 
M. d. L. Marinovitch 
Caporal Crehore 

P is a very nice, lively, sporty, quick chap. 

He talks fair English, and is very agreeable and 

handsome. B I don't care for. He's some 

peasant or farmer, and has never overcome his 
original disadvantages. Hair awfully long, filthy 
finger nails, drinks gallons of pinard, and yells 
when he talks. 

O is a corker. Nice, quiet, refined little 

Frenchman, very modest, excellent flyer, lots of 
nerve. Can trust him in a scrap. Very good- 
natured and likable. 

De L is of one of the F. F. V., and a prince 

of a fellow. Used to play golf with him at Pau. 
Taller than I am, very dark with beautiful blue 
eyes. Has had three brothers killed, and is the 
sole survivor of his generation. 

Marinovitch. The ace of the escadrille. My 
best friend, and one of the whitest, cleanest little 
fellows I have ever met. Father a Serbian, Mother 
a Pole, was born in France, educated in Ireland, 
has been a French citizen for several years, and 

143 



talks English, French, German perfectly, and 
Lord knows how many other languages he has a 
smattering of. Has the cutest pet of the crowd, 
a cross between a collie and a monkey it looks 
like. Superb flyer. Has brought down three 
Boches since early December, and was the first 
Frenchman to get a Boche in 191 8, bringing one 
down inside their lines New Year's afternoon 
early. 

C , the other American. From New Jersey 

somewhere. Very nice, quiet fellow, but pretty 
deaf, and getting deafer every day. His brother 
a crack runner at Yale while I was there. Am 
worried about him because of ears. Doesn't 
know there are archies till he sees them or feels 
their concussion. Very dependable. More 
steady than brilliant. 

M . Pleasant, quiet, retiring, former 

Zouave. Speaks English some. Don't know 
him well. 

C . Wide-awake, energetic, bright little 

English-speaking Frenchman. 

L . Quite nice. A bit proud, handsome, 

nice enough, but not very sure of himself as a 
flyer, as yet. 

B . Amusing Algerian. Lazy, pleasure- 
loving. Avoids Boches if he can. Also trouble. 

144 



This classification will probably amuse you, 
but you always seem desirous to know whom I 
am with. It's a pleasant, likable, good-natured, 
happy-go-lucky crowd, who have earned an ex- 
cellent name for No. 94. 

The escadrille is a bit short now, as a couple of 
fellows were killed since Christmas. Rayer was 
made sick by the cold and fell in a vrille on his 
way home a day or two after Christmas. Nicho- 
las, a bully little athlete, and very clever boxer, 
was shot in the arm and chest by an Albatross 
two or three days ago, and died that night in a 
field hospital after landing within our lines. 

The caramels were most acceptable. Be care- 
ful how you send packages. Half, if not more, 
are lost. The safest way is to give them to some 
one coming over. The mails here are wretched. 

Am going to bed. Sleep every night in my 
two undershirts, two underdrawers, jersey, shirt, 
sweater-vest, mother's sweater, breeches, socks, 
and woollen leggings. Over me I have three 
blankets, peau de pique coat, overcoat, and com- 
bination fourree. You can't imagine how pene- 
tratingly cold it is. And yet in spite of it all, I 
love the life, and wouldn't care to be anywhere 
else. I could get a permission home to swank 
around in my red breeches and black coat with 

145 



silver trimmings with high boots and carrying a 
swagger stick, and get the orchestra to play the 
Marseillaise every time I walked into a hotel, but 
what's the use? The other boys have done that, 
some of them, and have enjoyed it tremendously, 
but I'm too much in love with the life and a few 
people here. Paris is as good — and better than 
New York, Philadelphia, or Baltimore for me — 
and though I would like awfully to see you all 
again, well, that will have to wait a bit. I may 
go home between transfers to United States 
Army. On verra. 

The guns are rumbling chronically. There 
must be a coup de main taking place. Luckily 
we don't fly at night. I have a mission in the 
morning if it's good weather, so am going to bed. 

Lovingly, 

Houston 

P. S.: Speaking of clothes, I put mine on the 
day I left Paris, and intend to keep them on until 
I go back. It won't be the first time I've been 
over a month without a bath. 

P. P. S.: There's another I forgot, M . 

Machine smashed now. Good flyer. Descen- 
ded couple of Boches. Wounded in 1915, and 
was in hospital year and a half. Very swank, 
nice chap. 

146 



January gth, jqi8 

Dear Father: — 

Although it is late, and the lights are going out 
soon, I will have time to write you about the big 
day I had last Sunday. Sent you a cable saying 
I had brought down an Albatross, but all com- 
munications are so rotten I don't know whether 
you ever got it, so this may be the first you know 
of it. 

On January 6th three of us were to make aij 
hour morning patrol. One of the Frenchmen 
had magneto trouble, and couldn't go up, so 
Lieutenant Parizet and I started off together to 
patrol the sector. There was nothing doing. 
Not a Boche in sight. So far as that goes, I 
haven't seen a Boche our side for two weeks. 
We crossed the lines a bit at 4,000 metres, and 
soon saw three Albatross monoplanes sailing 
along at about 3,300 metres. I didn't wait for 
Parizet, who was leading, to start for them, but 
piqued on one of them immediately. Parizet 
made a slight detour, then dove on one from the 
side, leaving the third, the leader, free. My 
Boche made a quick turn, so I redressed and 
began manoeuvring to get behind and above him. 

147 



Finally I got him where I wanted him, and piqued 
steep, shooting all the time. Parizet was then 
just ahead of and above me, and I saw him shoot- 
ing at a Boche who was manoeuvring to attack 
me. He over-piqued eventually, and the Boche 
fired about twenty shots at me from the side and 
a trifle below. He got so close I could see his 
face, and for a second I hesitated whether to 
turn on him or continue with the original one. 
He fell over on his side, though, so I let him go; 
I put my machine in a vertical nose dive, gaining 
tremendous speed, then redressed, and quickly 
overtook my fleeing Boche. Got within one hun- 
dred metres of him, and sent in a steady stream of 
bullets. When I was so close to him that I 
started to redress to avoid colliding with him, I 
saw him slowly slip over on the wing, then go into 
a slow vrille, and after a few manoeuvres to keep 
him always under fire, I saw he had been hit, and 
made a vertical spiral to watch him vrille down to 
the ground. I was now at about 2,500 metres, 
and the other two Boches about a thousand 
metres below. Parizet had remained at 3,000 
metres, but I decided to take my chances with 
the other two, so threw my machine over on her 
side, and dropped seven hundred metres like a 
plummet in a couple of seconds. Both Alba- 

148 




HOUSTON IN THE MACHINE IN WHICH 
HE LEARNED TO FLY 



tross immediately continued their piquing. I 
followed one as low as i ,000 metres, but dared go 
no further after him. Then the fireworks began. 
One thousand metres is extremely low for five 
kilometres inside the German lines, and the air 
became black around me with their anti-aircrafts. 
I couldn't go in a straight line, and, as there was 
a heavy head wind, it took me ages to get inside 
our lines again. 

That is all the description I can give of my 
first fight. It was very thrilling, and the most 
wonderful sport I have ever participated in. I 
was in danger only the time when the Boche fired 
at me, and then somehow it seemed so funny 
I burst out laughing. I had always rather 
dreaded my first combat, but there's nothing 
nervous or rattling about it. It was more like 
practice at target shooting than anything else, as 
the aim has to be very carefully timed and cor- 
rected. There is a tremendously exhilarating 
thrill about it, however, and the passion of the 
hunt. 

Had another scrap in the afternoon, and if I 
had not been so pressed I could have brought him 
down easily. Was on a rather large patrol in a 
concentrated area, as we had reason to believe 
the Boches were going to make a coup de main 

149 



there. Everything was perfectly quiet, however. 
There wasn't a Boche to be seen in the sky. I 
got kind of bored at this stupid empty flying, so 
left the patrol, climbed to 4,400 metres (I was a 
little sick with the cold) and crossed over to ten 
kilos in Bocheland. Still nothing to be seen, so I 
came down to 3,600. At last I saw an avion com- 
ing in my direction, so I turned to meet him, both 
of us climbing at the same time. He looked like 
a Nieuport, and I was sure he was. When he 
was eight hundred metres from me he turned, 
throwing up the bottom of his wings to show, as 
I thought, that he was French. I made a quarter 
turn, then decided to follow him, thinking all the 
time it was a Nieuport. Overtook him, and then 
pulled what is probably one of the dumbest, 
biggest bonehead stunts in the war's aviation 
history. By this time I had taken it for granted 
he was a Nieuport, so had gotten in position to 
patrol with him. He apparently was just as 
positive that I was an Albatross, and I don't 
wonder, for a Nieuport is practically never seen 
now, especially alone, so far inside the German 
lines as I was. Well, for three minutes the two 
of us made a patrol together, I swerving from 
side to side and looking keenly above, below, 
behind, and on both sides for any enemy ma- 

150 



chines, and all the time I was one hundred and 
fifty metres behind and fifty metres above one, 
thinking he was French! Then suddenly I saw 
the Maltese crosses on his wings, and the sight of 
them hit me like a blow. I couldn't believe my 
eyes. For a second I thought I must be in a 
dream. Then I made in my haste a big mistake. 
Had I taken my time, I could have closed in, 
dived beneath his tail, and shot him down from 
directly underneath. I was a little upset by the 
startling discovery, however, and acted a little 
hastily. I immediately piqued on him, firing 
my gun. At the first shot he glanced back, and 
immediately dove, then put his machine in a 
vrille. At first I thought I had hit him, and was 
feeling pretty jubilant at the thought of bagging 
two in one day — a rare feat. The beggar had 
just been too yellow to fight, though, and dove 
without making any effort to put up a scrap. I 
saw him redress at about 1,000 metres, and I was 
pretty sore, for if he had stayed I might have 
gotten him, as the Albatrosses are too clumsy to 
manoeuvre well, and I can spin my little Nieuport 
around into any position like a toy. Fritz is 
frightened to death in this region, though, and 
the two of us in the morning were too much for 
their three. 

151 



Had quite a time getting home. The head 
wind was still blowing hard, I had a long way to 
buck it, was all alone in enemy territory, and the 
archies were shooting all around me. I didn't 
care to zig-zag back, but preferred to take a 
chance on a more or less straight dash, which 
would bring me home quicker, but at the same 
time make me an easier target for the "anties." 
Got through their fire all right, though it was 
pretty uncomfortable. Then, just before I had 
regained the lines, they threw up a perfect bar- 
rage directly in front of me. I veered off at right 
angles just in time. You see, they can get the 
range almost perfectly, but have difficulty in lay- 
ing angle of direction. I was feeling perfectly 
safe now, so near our lines, so decided to have a 
little fun with them. I made no effort to go 
through their continued barrage, but commenced 
a vertical spiral just in back of it. When the 
first couple of shots broke near me, I made a dart 
parallel to the lines, then before they could alter 
their aim, turned sharp, and gave full speed in the 
opposite direction. Before they could alter, I 
changed again, and did this six or seven times, 
laughing at how mixed up they must be. Finally 
they became so bewildered that they ceased firing 
altogether, not knowing where to aim. Then 

152 



was my chance, and giving full juice I dashed 
back into French territory before they could put 
up another shell at me. If they had a good tele- 
scope, I hope they could see me turn in my seat 
and thumb my nose at them. 

That was all for the day. I was awfully sorry 
I hadn't got my Boche, but I didn't deserve to on 
account of being so dumb as to mistake him for a 
Nieuport. The two machines look very much 
alike, but I should have been more careful. In 
the evening the commandant of the groupe called 
me to his office, and after congratulating me for 
the Boche, said that we had broken an order in 
crossing the lines with less then three Nieuports, 
and strictly forbade me to cross alone ever again. 

It was foolish of me to do it, but it was the 
recklessness of ignorance and a little unlooked-for 
success. I shall be much more prudent in the 
future. 

Unfortunately there was a mist and poor visi- 
bility in the morning, so no saucisses were up, 
and the C. A.'s could not follow the Boche to the 
ground, so, although my Boche is recognized, 
it is not " hanologated " and I can't get a citation 
out of it. These are always rather disappoint- 
ing. As a rule, on the average, only two thirds 
or three fourths of the machines descended are 

153 



hanologated. Thus Guynemer had some twenty- 
five victims unhanologated. Luf berry has about 
seven. The eccentric Navarre — greatest flyer 
who ever lived, unanimously and undisputably 
so — has some twenty-five unhanologated. 

Have to stop. 

Attorney's certificate just arrived a couple of 
days ago. Would have received it much sooner 
if addressed to Morgan-Harjes instead of Pau. 

Did box of Christmas presents arrive all right? 
Am going to send you my photograph later as a 
present. Quita's wasn't ready when I left Paris, 
so will send yours, Q's and Chas. later. Had 
Mother's kimona made from stuff I thought she 
would like. S's and G's wallets may seem 
effeminate to them, but are the smartest things 
men carry here. Mr. Edmonds still has Christ- 
mas box. 

Love, 

Houston 



154 



Saturday, January igth, igi8 

Dear Father: — 

I am terribly tired tonight, but will try to get 
off a short letter before going to bed. 

Today was the first good day since the 13th. 
Everyone was terribly fed up with the loafing, so 
very restless. The result is that it has been a very 
memorable day. Everyone in this group flew, 
and judging from all the Boche machines I saw, 
I guess all the Huns were up, too. This morning 
Winter and Putnam flew with a French Lieu- 
tenant. They penetrated the German lines six 
or seven kilometres, and then things happened 
so fast that no one can give a clear account. 
Winter was piqued on by two Boches, probably 
Fokkers, and threw himself around like a cork 
on rough water. How he got away he doesn't 
know, but he did every acrobatic known, and 
somehow escaped untouched. Belloc attacked 
a Fokker, then found himself attacked by two, 
and by jumping around got away. Putnam got 
separated from the others, attacked two Fokkers 
and brought one of them down, the Boche 
plunging into a forest. Unfortunately it was not 
hanologated. 

a 155 



(January 21st — couldn't finish other evening) 
Put's Boche was hanologated. Some infantry 
had observed the chute. 

This afternoon while piquing on a German 
observation machine I became separated from 
my companion. The Hun turned when I was 
still far from him, and beat it. I chased him. 
Meanwhile another Nieuport had dropped in on 
the scene, and suddenly he began shooting tow- 
ards me. I didn't know what in blazes was the 
matter till I discovered he was trying to attract 
my attention to three Boches chasseurs who were 
approaching. We beat it then. Maybe they 
can't travel, those German machines. They 
nearly caught us, and they were four, with ten 
mitrailleuses, to us two with two mitrailleuses. 
Then I tried to find my original companion. I 
found him, but immediately lost him again when 
I piqued on another Boche. I thought Bessieres 
had seen him, but learned later he had not. This 
second Boche also turned and ran, but was im- 
mediately joined by two others, so I once again 
beat a hasty retreat. Several times then I started 
to return home, but each time saw something 
which turned me back, once a combat, once 
two Boches, once anti-aircraft eclats. I was in 
the air two hours and forty minutes, and the 

156 



reservoir holds only two hours fifteen minutes' 
supply, so I reached home with not enough 
essence to wet the tank. Everyone was terribly 
worried, for news had been phoned in that a 
Nieuport had been seen falling loin chez eux at 
3:15, and as I had left Bessieres at three, they all 
were sure it was I. The captain was absolutely 
pale, and gave me hell for ten minutes straight. 
Poor old Variot. He used to be in 94, but was 
transferred to 156 when that escadrille was 
formed. He still lived with us however, and 
everyone liked him. Very good flier, old pilot, 
and had two Boches to his credit. Loin chez eux 
he became separated from his two companions, 
and no one has ever seen him since. It was phoned 
in that a Nieuport was seen fighting six Albatross 
for five minutes, and then descended in flames. 
It was impossible to do otherwise. He should 
not have tried to fight. If ever I get in a tight 
place chez eux I am going to pretend I am hit, and 
drop like lead. When very near the ground I 
shall redress, and just skin the soil full speed, leap- 
ing trees and fences, and thus with comparative 
safety regain chez nous. I have practiced it, and 
can get away with it I am sure. This will be a 
great safeguard, and a pretty sure preventive 
from joining the daisy pushers. That same day 

157 



Marinovitch and Crehore together brought down 
one of the Tangos — Germany's famous circus 
escadrille. This makes Marinovitch ace, and 
his third machine within a month. 

Lovingly, 

Houston 



158 



Friday, January 25th, igi8 

Dear Mother: — 

After that terrific cold spell, we now have 
weather almost resembling early summer. With 
the warmth has come fair weather these last two 
days, and I do hope it will continue a while to 
give us a chance to break the monotony by flying. 

Three or four days ago we pulled off a nice 
little stunt. Four of us were sent out to mitrail- 
leuse the Boche trenches in a rather troublesome 
sector. These mitraillage expeditions do little, 
if any, actual material harm to the enemy, but 
they are supposed to be a fine stimulant to the 
fantassins. It is a very dangerous game. The 
anti-aircrafts shoot at you, the soldiers shoot 
at you, the trench mitrailleuses, and now and 
then the trench artillery shoot at you. It isn't 
a very friendly reception they hand out. We 
cruised over to the lines at 3,000 feet, piquing 
just before we reached them to about 2,400 feet. 
Then we got in Indian file. The leader crossed 
No-Man's Land, and when directly over the Hun 
first line, turned, dove, and shot a steady stream 
till at about 300 feet when he turned sharp, made 
a quick dash across No-Man's Land to our side, 

159 



and started climbing to repeat the stunt. Each 
of us followed exactly the same process, and by 
the time the last had finished, the first had regained 
his position, and dove again, followed in regular 
order by the rest of us. In all, we turned about 
1,500 shots on the trenches. It was pretty good 
sport, though a bit too risky to be very comforta- 
ble, and I don't believe it hurt the enemy in the 
least. It seemed to tickle the poilus, though, for I 
could see them waving their arms and their casques 
to us from the second and third lines. We had to 
make a patrol afterwards, so had to save about a 
hundred balls apiece in case of a possible party 
with Fritz. After two dives apiece, therefore, 
we climbed to about 2,400 feet (very low, as flying 
goes) and there gave a nice little stunt exhibition 
in formation. The trenchers must have opened 
their eyes some. Barrel turns, renversements, 
vrilles, vertical virages, loops, we ran the whole 
gamut several times each. It was great. The 
archies had gotten our range well by now, and 
were breaking and crashing around us pretty 
regularly. It got a bit hot, so the leader hauled 
clear, and we climbed to make our patrol. The 
clouds were low, 9,000 feet, and we were in them 
practically all the time. I climbed on up through 
several times to see if Fritz was lurking in the 

160 



ceiling, but seeing no one anywhere, stayed on the 
bottom edge or in the vapor the rest of the time. 
R. A. S. {Hen & signaler). I'm not crazy about 
clouds chez nous, but they're good friends chez eux. 
They're a bit wet and cold ; it's impossible to see 
anything; the wind -shield, mirror, and goggles 
get covered with a thick mist which generally 
freezes in this weather, and the cold is penetra- 
ting. Incidentally, they are in general very 
rough, and we are tossed all about like a mere 
feather in a jagged squall. 

Had quite a panne yesterday. Started out on 
a patrol with the captain and another chap. My 
engine began to growl a bit, and all of a sudden 
there was a crash, the grinding of metal being 
torn, grating, and rattling, and I didn't know 
whether my plane was falling apart, or what had 
happened. A valve rod and cylinder head had 
broken, had cut the metal engine covering, and 
stopped and snapped off short when it hit the 
mitrailleuse. For a few seconds I thought my 
last hour had come. I instantaneously cut the 
contact (shut the switch) then to stop the pro- 
peller and engine turning, pulled the machine up 
as far as possible without tumbling, and by thus 
decreasing the air resistance, managed to kill the 
engine. Then I turned and started piquing for 

161 



home. I was at 6,500 feet, and didn't know what 
damage had been done, so couldn't be sure 
whether my machine would hold together or not, 
which made the volplaning more or less unen- 
joyable. I was too far away from home to make 
the piste, so piqued for the aviation field where I 
knew the Lafayette Escadrille was stationed. 
It's a bit of a knack landing exactly where you 
want after planing from far with no motor, but 
luck was with me and I brought up right in front 
of the hangars. Telephoned to No. 94, who sent 
an automobile to fetch me. Today the mechan- 
ics brought a new motor to the field, put it on, 
and this evening I was told my machine was 
ready. I motor over and fly it back tomorrow 
morning. 

Putnam brought out my field-glasses, your 
Christmas cards, and the religious books from 
Paris. The glasses are magnificent. Haven't 
had a chance to use them in my plane yet, but 
amused myself all day with them on the piste. 
They are the admiration of all. It's extraordi- 
nary how they help see planes otherwise small 
and invisible. Thank G, S, C, and Q, for their 
cards, and also S for his letter dated November 
25th. 

Stuffy Spencer, Yale 191 7 or '18, was killed in 
162 



a plane accident near Belfort the other day. He 
was a prince of a fellow, and a very good friend 
of mine. 

Very lovingly, 

Houston 



163 



February 6th, iqi8 

Dear Father: — 

I've had my first fling on the front at the 
enemy, and now I'm going back to the rear for a 
breather. The first of February our escadrille 
retired en repos, and also to be transformed into 
a new groupe. It will be a month anyway, maybe 
two, before we again resume work on the lines, 
but when we do, it will be at the hottest part of 
the whole front, where the expected big German 
offensive will be staged, or where the French may 
push a drive. In the meanwhile I'm going on 
leave to seek sunny climes in the south of France, 
along the Riviera. I have been able to see every 
breath taken since coming to the front, only very 
seldom being in a place heated enough so you 
couldn't see it. I'm pretty fed up on mud, cold, 
mud, mud, wet, cold, mud, and if there's any 
heat and sun left in Europe, I'm going to find it 
if I have to sneak into Italy to do so. Also it will 
be great to get up in the morning, knowing for 
certain you're going to be in that bed again that 
night. You bet I'm going to be glad when I 
leave the sound of guns, the black cloud of appre- 
hension, the black anti-aircrafts, the singing 

164 






bullets, and the cold, and the wet, and the mud 
behind me. I'm feeling pretty happy now, but 
why shouldn't I? Tomorrow morning I fly into 
Paris with my machine, leave it at the G. D. E., 
then select a brand new Spad two hundred and 
thirty horse-power, the fastest, strongest, and best 
machine the French have, and the greatest ma- 
chine on any front. With it I can climb to 
15,000 feet in about fifteen minutes, can race 
along at one hundred and thirty miles an hour at 
that height, can pique like a plummet, and with 
my two Vickers mitrailleuses shooting between 
the blades, can spit death like sparks from a fire. 
I shall now be able to overtake Fritz, to out-climb 
him, out-pique him, out-manoeuver him, and if I 
don't drive the fear of God into more than one 
yellow Hun, I deserve to never fly again. 

Shall be in Paris some time, as it is only a few 
miles from the pare, and it will take some days 
to select my machine and get it running well. 
After that, ten days permission — not counting 
travelling time — and me for Nice, the Italian 
border, Monte Carlo, Cannes, and a few hours in 
Marseilles just to look the town over. Then 
Panani (argot for Paris) again, then back to the 
front. 

My first spell at the front has been great, and 
165 



I have really enjoyed it tremendously. I love 
flying, and enjoy it for its own sake, but when 
you throw in also the thrill of the hunt, the ex- 
citement of the chase, and the game of death, fly- 
ing becomes the greatest sport of them all. I 
think I am rather justifiably proud of my first 
two months (seven weeks to be exact) of work. 
A newcomer, I was given an antedated machine 
(the Nieuport) and the old type at that. It was 
excellent, but not so good as the Spads. I had 
on it, however, forty hours on the lines, four com- 
bats, several protections, none of the reconnais- 
sance machines under my protection ever being 
attacked even, though made deep into the enemy's 
territory sometimes, and shot down at least one 
Boche plane, and maybe two. I think I told you 
about that. How I piqued three times on the 
last of three Boche reglage bi-planes, and fired on 
him each of the first two dives, but didn't even see 
him the last time. I have no idea what hap- 
pened to him. I don't think I got him, as I 
never dared approach nearer than five hundred 
yards, their three bi-planes being way beyond a 
match for my single monoplane. It is curious 
where in thunder he disappeared to so quickly, 
however. 

Received a batch of letters from you and 
166 



Mother yesterday, many of them written from 
Augusta. Was very sorry to hear Quita had 
come down with the chicken-pox. 

My Christmas package I hope reached you all 
right. You certainly should have gotten it long 
before now, but as I have heard nothing about it, 
am going to look it up by American Express 
when I go to Paris. It was sent by them before 
I came to the front. Tell Mother I've read the 
book of poems, but I don't think they're very 
strong or forceful. 

I do hope you keep your promise about the 
candy. I suppose you know of the chronic sugar 
crisis here. Some boys even receive boxes of 
sugar from their homes. Candy will certainly 
go fine. Your caramels were most acceptable. 
The glasses are superb. I am tickled to pieces 
with them, and are just exactly what I wanted. 

Tell Henry that poor old Phil Benney, who 

was with him in A. A. Sec. 12, was attacked by 

several Albatross, shot twice in the thigh, landed 

just back of the French trenches, was saved and 

rushed to a hospital by poilus, and had blood 

transfused from a plucky French sergeant. It 

was too late. He died in the hospital. It was 

very near Verdun. 

Lovingly, 

Houston 
167 



March 12th, igi8 

Dear Mother: — 

I find to my horror that it is over a month since 
I last wrote home. It is generally impossible to 
write during a permission as absolutely every 
minute of the time is more than taken. I shall 
now try to make up for lost time, however. 

I had a splendid leave. Left the front Febru- 
ary 7th to get a new machine. Was at Plessis- 
Belleville several days training on a Spad, then 
passed about a week at Bourget getting and try- 
ing out my new machine. Bourget is just out- 
side the city walls, so went out from Paris every 
noon in a taxi, flew a few turns, then went right 
back to Paris. It was a fine week. Flew over 
Paris several times, and was surprised to see what 
an enormous city it is. Had lots of fun picking 
out the various places, streets, and buildings, 
with which I am now very familiar. On the 17th 
of February I flew my machine out to the front, 
and it was a great little joy ride. Followed the 
Marne most of the time, and it is the crooked est 
river I've ever seen. I know the geography of the 
war pretty well, including that of the battle 
of the Marne, and it was very interesting to see the 

168 



whole famous battle-ground spread out beneath. 
From my altitude you could see nearly from 
Meaux to Soissons, and it was very interesting 
to pick out the ground, the roads even, by which 
the Boches made their great day-and-a-half 
retreat from Meaux to the Soissons, Reims, 
Argonne line. It was like an enormous map 
spread out beneath your gaze. 

The next day, the 18th, I set out for my per- 
mission de detente. I was going to Nice, Cannes, 
Monte Carlo, Marseilles, as I have always longed 
to visit the Riviera. It would have been bully, 
and everything was arranged beautifully. Lady 
Paget had asked me to visit her at Cannes, and I 
was going to spend four days with her. Then I 
was going to spend three days with some French 
friends at Nice and on the way back to Paris was 
going to spend the night with an awfully nice 
English family at their place at Avignon. It 
would have been a delightful leave, but then, the 
confounded portrait came along and messed up 
everything. I haven't particularly kind thoughts 
about that portrait. The rest of the letter I sup- 
pose I shall have to spend telling about it. 

When I got Father's cable I decided to have 
my portrait painted, you all seemed so desirous 
to have it, and then I thought it would be a good 

169 



souvenir in case anything did happen to me. 
About the best portrait painter in Europe now, 
and in France for certain, is the Princess Mary 
Eristoff, a Russian. She is really a genius. I 
never saw anybody do work which can begin 
to compare with her extraordinary portraits. 
They're not pictures, they're living images. Her 
price is generally 10,000 francs ($2,000) but not 
knowing anything about the price of portraits, I 
didn't know how much you would be willing to 
pay. Since then I have learned that her prices 
are very cheap for the work done. Luckily I 
have known her some time, and she happened to 
like me a little, so she said she would paint my 
portrait, and I could give her any price I wanted. 
I knew she was hard up, for although she makes 
a lot of money, she is always giving everything 
away to the needy, so she never has anything 
herself. She is an extraordinary character, and 
that is one of her characteristics; 5,000 francs 
didn't seem too much for you to pay, so I sug- 
gested it, and she agreed. Well, I still hoped to 
go to Nice, and as she is famous also for the 
rapidity with which she works, I thought I could 
get down all right. Then there was a delay in 
getting canvas. You have no idea how hard it 
is to get things now which aren't connected with 

170 




HOUSTON'S PORTRAIT 
Painted by Princess Mary Eristoff 



the war. Well, we finally got started. Then 
the princess got so interested in me and the pic- 
ture that she went into the thing very detailedly, 
changed the lights several times, put a setting 
sun shining on my face and clothes, then rubbed 
it out, then found another light. Then she dis- 
covered I had an Egyptian face, ancient Egypt, 
that is, not modern. So the fun she had painting 
a classic mouth, long, straight nose, high cheek 
bones, and long sphynx eyes ! I will admit it was 
a stunner, and I began to think I was good look- 
ing. Then we all decided that the first expression 
was more characteristic, so encore une fois the 
whole thing had to be changed. Well, eventu- 
ally, after over-staying my leave two days, it was 
practically finished. It's a corker. You will be 
tremendously pleased, I am sure. It's too good 
to take chances with sending it across, so she is 
going to keep it for a few months, at least. Any 
way, the uniform isn't quite finished, so she will 
have to finish the next time I go in. I'm in a 
half -sitting posture, supposed to be resting on a 
ledge high up on a cliff. The background is the 
sun setting below me, with the sky its typical 
gold, red, and purple sunset glows. It's mag- 
nificently worked out, and makes a stunning 
background. The cliff is brownish rock. I 
12 171 



have my blue uniform, with blue shirt and tie, and 
blue roll puttees over black shoes. My left hand 
is resting on the left leg half way between knee 
and thigh, and the right forearm on the right leg. 
The expression is splendid and bien moi. The 
eyes and mouth have a half smile, and also an 
enigmatic and teasing expression. Everyone 
thinks it's fine. I shall have a photograph of it 
sent you. 

I really had a very pleasant time in the studio, 
and if it were not for being always a little peeved 
about giving up the Riviera visit, I should have 
considered it a perfect permission. There were 
always a lot of people there. I met many of the 
Paris American colony, for the princess, like so 
many cultured Russians, speaks about four or 
five languages perfectly. She is extremely popu- 
lar, so the studio always had visitors. There was 
one young Englishwoman whom I became quite 
devoted to who came in and spent the whole of 
every day with us. I used to take her and the 
princess out for lunch nearly every day, then 
people would drop in for tea in the studio, and I 
had dinner and theatre every evening with dif- 
ferent friends. The evening of my birthday the 
English girl gave a dinner for me and I gave a box 
party afterwards, so it was very pleasantly cele- 

172 



brated. I give all these details because you and 
Father have spoken lately wondering how I pass 
my "perms." I have a great many friends in 
Paris, and they are terribly nice to me whenever 
I go in. I met many of the artist set this last 
time, then I see the diplomatic set from time to 
time, have gotten to know many of the best Paris 
families, and then of course one always meets 
those du monde. The only people in Paris I don't 
know are the Americans. Then there are always 
lots of my aviation, army, ambulance, business, 
and casual friends in Paris, so I have my time 
really too occupied. Life becomes a bit of a 
strain when one crowds so much into a short 
fortnight. 

The letter will be too fat, I fear, if I write an- 
other sheet. Have just lost two of my best 
friends. Wallace Winter of Chicago was killed 
when the wings fell off his machine. Thomas 
Hitchcock of New York crossed the lines and 
didn't come back. Will write about both boys 
in another letter. 

Thank Quita for her letter. 

Love, 

Houston 



173 



March iQth, iqi8 

Dearest Little Quita: — 

Thanks so much for your sweet little business 
letter. There were quite a number of words I 
was able to read first time with very little trouble. 

I don't think you would like to be over here 
very much. It has been cold and wet and nasty 
ever since the end of November, but at last the 
days are almost nice again, and we have made a 
very pretty garden outside our barracks, where 
we bask in the good old sun when he is working 
and we aren't. During the winter I had grown 
afraid that "Old Sol" had wandered off into 
other worlds somewhere, had become lost, and 
could not find his way back. 

I shall try to bring down lots of Huns, and if 
any fall in our lines I'll send you any iron crosses, 
rings, or things which I can take off them. 

I hope you are being a good little girl, going to 
school, studying hard, and taking a bath from 
time to time. 

Everyone thinks that the picture of you which 
Mother sent me for Christmas is awfully cute. 
You look as if you were as full of life, fun, and 

174 





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HOUSTON AND QUITA 
September, 191 1 



mischief as ever, and I hope you are taking very 
good care of yourself. 

After seeing these subdued, prim, neat little 
wax-doll-like children in France, I imagine it will 
be an awful shock to run across a real kid like you 
again. 

Well, Quita, I'm a busy man these days, so 
have to stop writing and see that my machine is 
being worked on. 

Au revoir ma petite. Tu es mignone, mats 
sois sage, et pense de temps en temps d, ton frbre 
qui t'aime. 

Do you know enough French to know what 
that means? 

Write again, Quita, I like to get letters from 
you. 

Your brother, 

Houston 
Escadrille Spad 94, G. C. 18, S. P. 12, France 



175 



March 2$th, igx8 

Dear Father: — 

I don't know what has happened to my letter 
writing lately; it certainly has gone in fits and 
bursts, but there's really nothing to write about. 

The original Spad they gave me didn't run well, 
or rather I smashed it up by flopping it over land- 
ing in a ploughed field after my motor died at 
one hundred and fifty altitude. I was climbing 
full speed, but at fifty metres the motor coughed 
and quit. Ahead of me was a swamp, stream, 
trees, and a fence ; to my right a marsh and stone 
wall, to my left a muddy, soft ploughed field. 
Landing ahead or to the right was beyond all 
question or possibility, so I dove, threw up my 
right wings, turned to left and flattened out. 
Piqued as slowly as I dared without risking wing 
slip, and pulled stick all the way back before let- 
ting the wheels drop. The landing was a beauti- 
ful three-pointer, for the bequille struck first. 
Unfortunately there was an old, rotten stump 
there. The left wheel struck it, throwing all the 
weight on the right wheel. The mud was very 
deep and soft, the wheel sank in a ploughed furrow 
up to the axle, there was a crash, the running gear 

176 



gave way, down went the nose, propeller caught, 
tripped and broke, and up came the tail. She 
hesitated a few seconds, then flopped. "Encore 
en assis." I was very humiliated and disap- 
pointed. All the time I was in the schools I 
never broke a thing on any machine, not even a 
wire. I was very anxious to keep up the record, 
but here was the whole appareil a wreck. No- 
body said anything, for it was really impossible 
to avoid, just rotten, hard luck. Well I now 
have a Spad which has given a great deal of motor 
trouble up to now, but they have just changed 
motors, and today it seemed to run all right. 
New Spads always give lots of trouble. The 
adjoining escadrille has now been three months 
getting their new Spads into shape, and not all of 
them are running yet. I hope we shall have 
better luck. 

My room-mate has brought down a Rumpler 
bi-plane this morning five miles chez eux, but 
unfortunately it was not hanologated, the brume 
being too heavy to observe the chute. He al- 
ready has five Boches officially, but several more 
unofficially. He is the youngest of the French 
aces, u le Benjamin des As" as the French call 
him. Marinovitch is his name, about the nicest 
fellow I have ever met. By the time you get 

177 



this letter he will probably have several more 
Boches and I hope I shall, too. 

Have you seen the Illustrated London News of 
February 9th? There is a magnificent picture 
of a Nieuport bringing down an Albatross in 
flames. It has been greatly admired by aviators, 
and I have seen it on several walls. The details 
are excellent, and the artist knew flying and the 
two machines. Somehow the picture seems to 
breathe a bit of the thrill of the hunt, and you 
can almost see the Boche breaking up before 
crashing, with the Nieuport following in a vertical 
plunge, and spitting till the last minute. The 
whole thing is most realistic. 

Col. , head of American Aviation in 

France, landed here today in his little runabout 
Spad, and I saw the American cocardes for the 
first time on a plane. A red circle outside a blue 
circle outside a white centre. The effect is very 
good, but a bit of care will have to be exercised 
at first not to mistake the blue ring from a long 
distance for the dark blotch the iron cross makes. 
At least, that is what the French say. I don't 
think there's any danger myself. 

I am trying to get all my financial accounts 
exactly systematized so I will know just where I 
stand. Please send me an account of my annual 

178 



income, and bonds held. Don't forget, as I want 
to find just what my position is. 

Please send all newspaper clippings concerning 
my work here. I hate publicity, and am horri- 
fied at some of the letters I have received from 
people I don't know. I shall have to try awful 
stunts now to try to live up to the reputation 
you somehow seem to have given me. I beg you 
to be careful what you publish. Anything really 
interesting is all right, of course. But anything 
which seems to be trying to make a sort of hero 
out of me I hate. Do send every clipping, that 
of the Alumni Weekly, and that of the Ledger. 
I have been rather surprised you haven't sent 
them already. I am anxious to see them, for I 
don't remember at all what I wrote. 

Thanks for candy and book by Elbert. Just 
missed him in Paris. I was in on a twelve-hour 
business visit, and left a note for him at his hotel. 
He has gone to Talse Bolsena, an Italian hydra- 
vion school on a lake in the Apennines, about 
sixty miles from Rome, but doesn't expect to 
remain long. Mrs. Dent might like to know. 

Will try desperately to write soon. 

Lovingly, 

Houston 



179 



APPENDIX 





§ -o '4 



182 




SI 



183 



Translation 

combatting fleet no. i, 
combatting group no. 1 8, 
spa escadrille 94. 

Postal Division 92, April gth, 191 8 

Dear Sir: — 

I duly received your favor of the 5th inst. and 
beg to send you at once the information I have 
on Corporal Pilote Houston Woodward, who has 
disappeared and is very much regretted by my 
escadrille. 

The first of April, in the afternoon Woodward 
was sent on patrol in the lines of the enemy; he 
was seen several times during that patrol by my- 
self. The French patrol having attacked a certain 
number of enemy aeroplanes, there was a fight 
after which Corporal Woodward disappeared. 

The fight took place in the North and North- 
West region of Montdidier at a small altitude 
(about 1,000 metres) and two hypotheses seem 
possible: Corporal Woodward was brought down 
during the fight wounded or killed, or else an 
accident occurred to his apparatus obliging him 
to land in the lines of the enemy. The thick fog 

185 



and the clouds which existed on that day pre- 
vented us from learning more of him. 

Corporal Woodward was on a type Spad appa- 
ratus, bearing No. 1419 with a motor No. 10.828. 

Thanking you in advance for any inquiries 
you may wish to make on his account, we beg to 
remain, 

Yours very sincerely, 

Signed by the Commandant of Escadrille Spad 94 



186 



Y. M. C. A.— A. E. F. 

12 rue d* Agues seau, 
Paris, February 12, iqiq 

My dear Dr. and Mrs. Woodward: — 

I have just sent you cable reading as follows: 

"Located Houston's grave at Montdidier. 

"Edmonds." 

This is the result of the energy and untiring 
interest of Lieut. Pierre Marinavitch of Escad- 
rille No. 94, who has been untiring in his efforts 
to secure satisfactory and positive information for 
you. I wrote you sometime ago that after 
Montdidier was recovered from the Germans it 
was reported that Houston's plane had been 
found near the roadside, charred as the result of 
burning. No later report was ever received from 
the Army, for the region is so much of a desert 
that but few people have returned. I asked 
Marinavitch to give me his first free day in 
Paris for the purpose of prosecuting a personal 
inquiry and last week he notified me that he would 
be free today for this purpose. I asked Walter K. 

187 



Towers who is one of the editors of "The Ameri- 
can Boy" and a magazine writer of reputation, to 
go along with us and to take his camera. We 
started this morning from Paris on a bleak, rainy 
and disagreeable day. We reached Montdidier 
about one p. m. and found this famous town in 
complete ruins. No one has returned to live 
there yet except a few policemen and the general 
condition is as desolate as around Ypres. We 
made inquiries at Montdidier but nothing has 
been done yet by the Army authorities looking 
toward the marking or identification of graves. 
We then proceeded out from Montdidier on the 
right to Rubescourt, passing continually through 
lines of barbed wire, trenches, machine gun 
emplacements, dug-outs, etc. — the whole surface 
being littered with German debris including 
shells, fuses, hand grenades, etc. We stopped at 
every grave we could see in the hope of obtaining 
some identifying clue. 

About three and a third kilometers from 
Montdidier, which is one kilometer from Rubes- 
court on the right hand side of the road going 
from Montdidier; and perhaps fifty yards from 
the road we saw the ruins of an aeroplane, and 
Marinavitch exclaimed at once that it was a 



Spad. We got out immediately and found the 
charred remains of a badly battered and burned 
plane. It had evidently hit the ground with 
considerable force as it had made quite a little 
impression. Practically all of the woodwork was 
burned and the metal was also broken and twisted. 
Marinavitch at once identified it by the colors 
painted on the metal as belonging to Escadrille 
No. 94. By united pulling we turned it over and 
then scraped the mud and rust from the motor 
plate, eventually finding the number, 10828 
which was the number of Houston's motor which 
he took out on April 1st. About ten yards from 
the motor to the right was a long grave which had 
been dug in a shell pit. It was marked by a 
small cross consisting of two pieces of charred 
wood from an aeroplane and at the foot was a 
small charred piece of the plane painted red and 
stuck into the grave by its wiring. There was no 
name but from this identification it seems clear 
that the aviator who was in the plane when it 
came down on April 1st was buried here. Mar- 
inavitch tells me that it was Houston's practice 
not to carry a name plate and that is probably the 
reason why no report has ever been made of his 
death. 

189 



13 



From the condition of the aeroplane it seemed 
quite clear to Marinavitch, and I accept his 
opinion, that Houston was shot in mid-Air, that 
the shot set the machine on fire, that he was 
probably killed instantly either by the bullet or 
the fall and that the burning of the plane also 
caused the destruction of his papers and reports 
so that it was impossible for the Boche to identify 
by name the aviator. 

I had in my pocket the little Prayer Book for 
Soldiers and Sailors which the Brotherhood of 
St. Andrew sent me after I had been over here, 
and you will be interested to know that we had 
prayers by the side of the grave, especially the 
prayers on page 79 and 94 in the book. It was a 
most desolate scene. The country is flat; it 
was raining part of the time ; everything habitable 
had been destroyed; trenches abound, running in 
every direction; the surface is continually pitted 
with shells and while perhaps the desolation is not 
quite as great as at Ypres, yet it simply baffles 
description to anyone who has not seen devas- 
tated country. The four of us were the only ones 
in sight. 

After this inquiry we felt reasonably certain 
that Houston's body is reposing in the land where 

190 



he fought so well and for which he was content to 
lay down his young life. 
With sincere regards, I am 

Yours faithfully, 
Franklin Spencer Edmonds 

Dr. George Woodward, 
Chestnut Hill, 
Philadelphia ,*Pa . 



191 



MINI ST ERE DE LA GUERRE 
AeronauLique Militaine 

BREVET 
D'AVIATEUR MILITAIRE 

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In a shell hole in France, 
By the wreck of his plane, 
Lies my beautiful soldier son. 
Do I grieve, do I miss him, 
Am I proud, am I sad, 
That he's staying there — 

Over in France? 

He was strong and so tall, 

Such a beautiful boy — 

His hair was as black as the night. 

If he hadn't been beautiful 

Perhaps I'd not care 

That he's staying there — 

Over in France. 

If he'd only been ugly, 

Or selfish, or cross, 

I'd have thought it was all for the best. 

He never was selfish, 

He always was kind, 

But he's staying there — 

Over in France. 
i95 



He was too young a boy 

To leave me that day: 

I remember the things that we bought 

And the cab and the steamer 

That took him away; 

And he's staying there — 

Over in France. 

He was praised as a pilot, 

He brought down a Hun, 

And they gave him a Croix de Guerre 

With a palm and a ribbon. 

He was shot in the air; 

He is staying there — 

Over in France. 

Whenever I'm home 

He is not in his room; 

He is not in the room with me. 

There's a blur in my eyes — 

Perhaps he will come 

If he's not staying there — 

Over in France. 



196 



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